


Scions of the Old Blood

by FanficsbyVe



Series: Return from the Hunter's Dream [2]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Babies, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficsbyVe/pseuds/FanficsbyVe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hunter and Plain Doll find that a union of beings of Old Blood may carry unexpected results. Sequel to "After The Arcane Storm". The Doll attained humanity. Takes place after the Childhood's Beginning ending. FINISHED</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Under The Pale Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a requested Christmas gift for a friend. Hope you enjoy, Maf. Hopefully I finish this before Yule. XD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terrible forces invade Byrgenwerth at night, forcing the Hunter and Doll to fight for their lives.

Something was wrong.

The Doll knew that the moment she woke up. She lifted her head off the pillow and looked around the room, every part of her on edge. She reached over to the lamp beside the bed and lit it, looking around.

The good Hunter wasn’t sleeping beside her. That didn’t necessarily worry her. Her common-law husband often tended to have his sleep interrupted by flashes of potential brilliance. Oft times, she would find him in his workspace developing something or in the small greenhouse they had built on the grounds digging up some samples. It was something she had stopped worrying about, but she had such a feeling that tonight this wasn’t the case.

She peered into the dark bedroom and glanced at the many shapes inside it. Everyone else was awake too, it seems. She could see the glowing eyes of the Hunter’s cats wide open and turned towards the windows. A deep, yowling sound came out of their mouths. Her dogs were not doing any better. She could see their teeth flicker in the moonlight and their growling was fierce and aggressive. 

She hurried out of bed, slipping into her chamber robe and turning on a lantern beside the bed. She picked it up and shone it into the dark space. Everything seemed quiet and safe, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any danger to be found. She approached the largest two dogs of her pack, a wolfhound and a shepherd.

“Hush, Dorian, Aurora. What is it?”

Both dogs gave her a look, allowing her to pet them before turning their eyes to the windows again with a low growl. At that point, she decided to trust the instincts of her pets. The constant vocalizations were not their standard behavior and it was never a good sign when they did. Worse, they were rarely, if ever, wrong.

She shoved some boots onto her feet and walked over to the nearest cabinet. She pulled out a pistol, loading it with trained precision, before strapping a sword to her waist. Only for a sense of security, of course. She preferred using her arcane skills in order to defend herself, finding weaponry clunky, but she figured having something to fall back on was always good. 

She then marched out of the room, whistling at her dogs to follow her just in case. The empty, dark halls of Byrgenwerth greeted her, yet she didn’t fear the shadows. By now, she knew every nook and cranny of her large home. The dogs at her side helped too.

The large menagerie she and the Hunter kept started out for practical reasons. Along with wards, spells and reinforced fences, the dogs were meant to keep Healing Church members at bay and alert them to danger. The cats were taken in to combat vermin inside the building. These animal helpers had quickly turned into companions, however, and she and her lover now valued them for far more than their usefulness. In time, they found their pets also came with another benefit; they could sense those afflicted with beast blood a long distance away.

As such, they all more than earned their keep and tonight, this was no different. She looked down at her pets, ranging from hounds to lapdogs, and noticed how they hurriedly walked in front of her, hackles raised and baring their teeth. Their heads all jerked in the same direction, to something outside of Byrgenwerth’s walls. She had never seen them this on edge and then and there, she knew what whatever was out there, it was bad…

She rushed towards the entrance, throwing herself against the heavy doors in an effort to open them. They slowly opened at her insistence and she squirmed her way out. The cold night air bit into her face, but she shrugged it off as she looked around. Her heart stopped for a second.

The apparent calmness of the outside area did not fool her. Its soothing darkness and the pale moonlight were only a ruse of calmness. She could hear noise in the distance, human voices, and among the screams and war cries, she clearly distinguished her lover’s voice.

Without thinking twice, the Doll rushed forward. She didn’t get very far. A dark figure suddenly swooped down in front of her. She jumped back on instinct and the dogs were practically howling. Immediately, she shone the lantern towards the figure and a wave of nausea hit her. 

By now, recognizing a Healing Church-affiliated Hunter was easy. In the few years she and the good Hunter had successfully helped to combat the Scourge through alternative means, they had come to stand out by the foul odor of beast blood. That was, if their appearance didn’t already give it away. The man was almost twice the size of her, his appearance was disheveled and he moved in a way not quite human.

She pulled the lantern back but didn’t move. Without showing any expression, she stared the intruder down. He stared back, flashing a hideous grin that revealed protruding canine teeth. 

“All alone… Perfect…”

With those words, he leaped at her with a large axe-like weapon drawn. In the past, several years ago, that would have surely been the end of her. Yet she was no longer a doll and, unlike what this interloper thought, no longer helpless. Besides, a library like Byrgenwerth and a patient teacher like her husband had their advantages.

She raised her hand, invoking the Augur of Ebrietas. The portal immediately appeared and the Kin’s tentacles flung themselves through. They hit her attacker straight in the chest, hard enough to knock him to the ground. As he tried to get to his feet again, she cast the Accursed Brew on him. The effects of the arcane tool instantly took effect, but it wasn’t enough to take him down. Not that she expected it to be, anyway.

Soon, the bestial Hunter was on her again. Evetta rapidly called upon the Old Hunter Bone. Her movements quickened and the Hunter’s blade only hit the cobblestone. He cursed and the Doll knew it wasn’t because he had failed to get her. His attack, driven by enraged bloodlust, proved to be a mistake. Not only was she out of his range, but he was now close enough to her dogs.

The animals wasted no time. They descended upon the intruder with unbridled ferocity, their sharp teeth tearing at his clothes and flesh. The screeches the man let out were inhuman and the smell of blood started to permeate the air. Still, it wasn’t long before he started to claw at the creatures attacking him. Evetta knew very well that a Hunter in his state could do to her pets and as such, she didn’t waste time.

Still relying upon her quickening, the Doll rushed up to the man. Despite being pinned by the larger dogs, he managed to swing his axe in her direction. Her tool allowed to sidestep his swing quite easily and without hesitation, she unleashed her Blacksky Eye with deadly precision.

The Hunter let out one last scream of agony as the dark magic burrowed into his skin and he sunk to the ground. She quietly gestured her dogs to back off as she walked over to him, her face expressionless as she watched him in his dying throes. She by no means enjoyed killing, but her life in the waking world had forced her hand enough times not to be as affected by it anymore. 

The interloper noticed her lack of horror at the situation and he grinned despite spitting up blood. “Heh. Looks like you learned some tricks… Probably not the only thing he taught you…”

She merely gave him a cool look. “Who sent you and why? Speak and go with your conscious cleared.” 

The Hunter spat blood at her defiantly. “Oh, you know…and you’ll see. You’ll see…”

Having said those words, he breathed his last. She did not deign him a look of pity as he did and instead focused her attention to the screaming at the distance. His dying words had not given her much, but just enough to have a hunch. She knew now who dared violate her home and she would give them a warm welcome indeed. 

With a gesture of her hand, she commanded her dogs to go back inside the college. Something told her they were much safer there than outside. As swift as her feet could carry her, she ran up to the commotion. Even so, when she finally reached her destination, she found herself nailed to the ground. What she was looking upon was not a pretty sight. 

There, at the edges of Byrgenwerth’s territory, was her lover. Most of his human façade had come off, revealing the Great One underneath. She could feel pain and rage emanate from him even at this distance and it was clear why. All around him, as far as she could see, there were Hunters, with their robes indicating them as different sects of the Healing Church. 

Her stomach turned. This was the most Healing Church members she’d seen in one place for a few years now. Their influence had rapidly deteriorated when the good Hunter made the knowledge of what caused the Scourge public. It had been a crippling blow to the organization, a critical hit in a war they had waged for a good time now. 

What had started with her husband’s contribution to inhibitors and later a cure reached its conclusion when he finally revealed the truth. The result had been something close to an inquisition. By now, the only truly prominent members of the Healing Church were enterprising minds that suddenly put great emphasis on going back to Master Willem’s adage to “fear the Old Blood”. Still, some of the old guard remained even now, refusing to give up power and become a relic of the past. It didn’t surprise her. After all, vermin always tended to be hard to dispose of. 

She glanced at her lover. He was managing, but with difficulty. She could tell he was in distress, afflicted with something that was hampering his movements and caused him to vomit violently. Poison, she quickly realized, probably from a blade. Not at all deadly to a Great One, but enough to temporarily slow him somewhat. 

The Healing Church Hunters needed that edge. They were coming at him from all sides, desperately trying to hack and slash at him. She could tell some of them were clearly going mad with frenzy while others took the brunt of the damage her lover’s monstrous form could deal. Still, there was strength in numbers and they fought with the intent to overwhelm. 

Immediately, the Doll put down her lantern and clasped her hands above her head. She called upon the powers beyond and devastating white light found its way towards the Hunters nearest to her. Several of them dropped like flies and for a moment, there was a lull in the fight. 

Several pairs of eyes turned towards her. She could see the rage and bloodlust in most of them, the unhinged gaze of those who saw things no mere human was intended to see. Their predatory fanaticism shook her to her core, yet what alarmed her even more was the genuinely concerned look on whatever was left of her husband’s human face.

“Evetta… Evetta, get back!”

Despite taking his plea seriously, she ignored it. She turned to the Hunters with utter determination, readying another hunter’s tool in her hand. She wasn’t just going to sit back and suffer these zealots in her home, a feeling that only increased when a shrill female voice started shrieking and giggling madly from the shadows. 

“Kill her! If not him, then her! She will buy us time! Avert it for the time being! Kill her! Kill her!”

Almost immediately, the Doll found herself inwardly seething. She knew who it was the moment she heard it and any potential plans for negotiation were gone. She stepped away from the lantern, now eager to face the horde.

Several Hunters came running towards her and she responded by employing her arcane whistle. Its ethereal chimes quickly drew forth a serpentine servant, which threw itself at her would-be enemies viciously. A few others halted, looking upon her with bitter hatred and shock, a sentiment she merely answered with another display of the destructive white light from beyond.

Amidst their shouts and panic, her lover saw his chance and unleashed a devastating assault of his own. He managed to immobilize several of his attackers, whispering alien words that were madness to anyone but Great Ones. The meaning caused an outbreak of eyes and pulsing flesh eating away at those targeted and he proceeded to lash out with a sweeping wave of otherworldly, all-consuming black light.

Understanding his intent, the Doll then quickly drew upon the Old Hunter Bone once more. She started darting among the Healing Church Hunters, distracting them and enticing them to go after her instead. She almost smiled when she realized how quickly she distracted them, convinced as they were that she was far easier prey than her lover. 

Soon, she and her husband were moving like clockwork. She baited the Hunters, making sure to stay in motion as to limit the damage to her own person. He would then strike while they were distracted, lunging with his aberrant limbs, unleashing floods of corrosive fluids or summoning unearthly magic. She would add to those by employing some arcane tools of her own, bringing down their enemies one by one.

Gradually, the entrance to the college was littered with corpses. Despite the best efforts of the Healing Church Hunters, their combined assault proved too difficult to win a fight against. A few of them wisely fled, but most perished before they could even make it far enough. The Old Healing Church was dying and tonight, their numbers had been culled even further.

As the handful of lucky survivors quickly retreated into the surrounding woods, the Doll turned to her lover. The good Hunter was still standing, but it was clear the members of the Church had done a number on him. She was about to walk over to him, only for a shrieking form to fling itself from the shadows and charge at her.

“You must die!”

She instantly recognized the Blood Saint Adella, or at least what was left of her. Being touched by the Great Ones hadn’t been kind to her. It seemed that over the last few years, her body had grotesquely deformed, both from the Old Blood and perhaps the mad whispers she always heard. From the looks of it, it hadn’t done wonders for her sanity either.

On instinct, the Doll utilized her Old Hunter Bone to evade her, but it did little to stop her as she continued to sprint at her, screaming and clawing at her. “We must stop you! Prevent it from happening! I will not let you damn the Church! I will…”

The Blood Saint didn’t even get to finish her ramblings. As she charged, looking more eldritch than human and ready to tear her apart, the Doll’s mind went black. At that moment, she didn’t think anymore. She simply pulled her pistol from the belt, aimed and pulled the trigger.

She could feel her arm snap back painfully as the weapon recoiled, but it mattered little to her. The moment she came back to her senses, she stepped up to Adella’s fallen body. She experimentally nudged it with her boot, receiving no response. The woman was dead…

A deep sigh left her mouth. She didn’t regret her decision. Adella had been out to kill them, led the party here to take their lives. It had been self-defense on her part. Still, that did not mean she enjoyed taking her life or that of any of the Hunters that came here tonight. It was a miserable end to an already tortured existence and all she could do now was wonder what kind of mad, apocalyptic phantasms had plagued her and drove her to lead this assault. 

She did not get to contemplate on this for long. She could sense her lover reach out to her and she knew helping him and securing the parameters was key. She turned around to face him and walked over. He was slowly reverting back to his human form, but he was still feeble on his legs. She helped him stand, guiding him towards the college.

“You are hurt. We need to go inside.”

He let out a slight huff. “I’ll live. I went to investigate when I sensed their presence, but I got cocky and the bastards got the drop on me. I was more worried when you decided to enter the fray…”

She giggled, helping him towards the entrance. “Well, I cannot let you have all the glory all the time. Let us patch you up. I doubt we will have any more visitors tonight.”

They quickly entered the safe, thick walls of Byrgenwerth, making sure to close the heavy doors behind them. She sat him down in the living room, leaving him in the company of their pets. As he sat there amidst his loyal companions, who were all sniffing him worriedly, she quickly grabbed some antidote and bandages. 

He gladly took the potion from her and downed it eagerly. She knew he was already starting to heal, a side effect of Great One’s blood, but she nonetheless wanted to speed it up and forget this dreadful night as soon as they could. As he did, the Doll quickly checked her left arm, which was starting to become numb and sore due to the recoil of the pistol.

She jumped when he suddenly reached out and gently held the afflicted limb with his own human one. A sigh went passed her lips as his touch soothed the ache. Her eyes turned to his and she found him smiling. 

“You held your own well.”

Despite everything, she managed a smile. “I had a good teacher. Still, I had rather hoped for a peaceful sleep… I wonder what they wished to accomplish…”

The good Hunter shrugged. “Retaliation, most likely. Things have considerably worsened for them since we revealed the truth about their panacea. And when some of the former beasts lingering in Old Yharnam came back without the fur and claws but with a renewed ability to speak, there was no denying it. Perhaps they just wanted to settle the score the only way they could.”

The Doll didn’t answer that question, instead undoing his grip and wrapping the bandages around his wounds. In any other case, she would have wholeheartedly agreed with his theory. Yet there was something about what had happened that put doubt in her mind. 

She had suffered Adella for several years and while the woman had definitely been insane, she did not recall her to be this unhinged. In fact, she didn’t recall the Healing Church being this outright aggressive, even when they were still untouchable. Even if Adella’s behavior was just madness compiling over time, she doubted everyone else in the old branch of the Healing Church shared her psychosis. 

So what had compelled them to embark on an assassination that would most likely be a Pyrrhic victory at best? She had seemed so beset by fear, by mania. What kind of horrific things had the Great Ones shown her that moved an entire disgraced faction into a direct assault?

Her mind couldn’t conceive of any good reason and frankly, she was scared to dwell on it. As such, she kept these thoughts to herself as she finished the bandaging. This was not the time to wonder about the motivations of the mad. She was tired and stressed by tonight’s events. Right now, she wanted nothing more than retire to bed.

She glanced at her husband. “Good Hunter, I am tired. Stay up if you wish, but I am going back to sleep.”

With those words, she turned and went off, only for him to get up and follow her. “I’ll join you. I have had enough excitement for one night.”

A small smile came onto her lips at that. She didn’t fault her lover for being something of a night owl. That was just who he was. Still, that didn’t change that she preferred him lying beside her when they went to sleep. 

Back at their bedroom, she quickly got rid of her weaponry, as well as the robe. Back in her simple nightdress, she then slipped under the covers. She lay down against the sheets and pillow, enjoying their softness and watching how their pets settled down to sleep as well. The good Hunter soon joined her and then and there, she couldn’t help but feel content again. 

Yet the sleep she had hoped for remained absent. While her mind was tired, her body had not quite processed the adrenaline from the night’s events. She tossed and turned for a while, getting annoyed that she remained wide awake. In the end, she simply lay on her side, staring into the darkness and hoping that perhaps time and monotony would be on her side.

The Doll jumped a little when she suddenly felt the good Hunter’s fingers brush against her side. Still, she didn’t protest when he pulled her against him. She felt his lips press against her temple.

“Can’t sleep, Evetta?”

A silent nod was his answer and she gently placed her hands on his. She ran their coarse surface over her body, slipping them underneath the nightdress to touch the bare skin. He caught on to her intent and she could feel him smile.

It had been a while since they had last been intimate. She had just gone through her menses a day ago and recent experimentation in deciphering the voices of the Great Ones had occupied both their times as they tried to transcribe it in Caryll runes, schematics and art. It had been an exciting venture for sure, but she quite missed her husband’s embrace and she was more than eager to make up for it. Besides, she was sure to fall asleep afterwards.

Immediately, she wanted to turn around to him, only to feel confused when he tightly held her in place. A shudder ran through her when she suddenly felt him kiss her neck. His hands continued to trace over her bare skin, slowly and deliberately, indicating he wanted to take his sweet time.

That decision was met with a firm huff on the Doll’s end, only to turn into a giggle as his hands flitted over her stomach and caused a ticklish sensation. She squirmed, pressing herself further against him. A soft groan and a familiar bulge against her rear indicated he quite liked the closeness, but any attempt to reach back was stifled when a hand finally found one of her breasts.

She sighed contently as he ran his fingers over the sensitive flesh. Goosebumps started to form all over and she leaned into him. He traced his thumb over the nipple, causing little shocks of pleasure to run through her. When his other hand joined, she could feel herself go limp as she decided to just let him take the lead for a while. 

Her lover didn’t seem to mind. She could feel his run his tongue down her spine, grazing his teeth against the skin. She was so wrapped up in his attention that she didn’t notice one of his arms snaking down, trailing over her belly before reaching for that sweet spot between her legs. 

Her cheeks turned red at the whine that escaped her throat. Her hips bucked involuntarily into his hand and she swore he was grinning as he flicked that sensitive little nub again. He repeated the motion over and over, building a steady rhythm. Her ragged breaths were swiftly turning to gasps and she could feel her juices running over his fingers. 

Fearing she was going to go over the edge without him, she willed her blurry mind to act. Occupied with pleasuring her, he did not notice her wandering hands. Making use of the distraction, she quietly slipped her hand under the hemline of his pants and took hold of his already thickening member.

She had to hide her amusement when he cursed under his breath, but she didn’t give him time to recover as she moved her hand up and down the shaft. His grip on her increased, but she didn’t relent as she ran her fingers down the veins. The moment she saw her chance, she turned in his arms, kissing him before continuing her ministrations, enjoying the look of him writhing in pleasure at her actions.

He was soon fully hard and she could already feel some fluid at the tip. With whatever part of his mind he could still think, he begged her to get on with it. She smiled to herself, agreeing with that wish. By now, she had waited long enough. 

She sat up and before the Hunter could protest, she pushed him onto his back. He gave her a stunned expression, but she simply smirked and straddled him. She moaned loudly as she guided him inside of her warm, slick folds. He grunted at the sudden sensation and she decided to oblige him by holding still, if only for a brief moment.

The Doll closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of him stretching her ever so slightly. How she had missed this, him being inside of her and eagerly grabbing onto every available curve. It had been too long and she liked this perk of having a human body far too much. She leaned down, sealing her mouth over his lips. He didn’t protest at all, running his fingers through her loose silver-colored hair. Even if both were overcome with lust, there was still plenty of room for affection too.

Still, his patience had limits. Soon, he urged her to rock her hips. She obliged, shuddering at the delicious sensation. Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp and she instinctively dug her nails into his chest. Her husband didn’t even seem to care as he guided her hips to rise and descent, forcing himself deep inside her.

Of her own accord, she spread her thighs further, eager to except every inch of him. She could feel him move against that wonderful spot inside her and it added to the sensation of his hands roaming across her back and breasts. Finally, his fingers found that little nub between her legs again and despite her best attempts to shoo him and hold off a little longer, he was just as uninterested in playing fair as she was.

She bit her lip as he traced circles around it, occasionally biting back a groan as her inner walls kept tightening around him. She tried to resist, but she could already feel herself climbing and before long, all she could do was simply give in as her lover pulled her close for another kiss, pressing his tongue into her mouth to intertwine with hers. 

That, with a last firm press against her nub, was what did it for her. She came apart instantly and moaned into his mouth as the heat in her belly finally exploded. Her center clamped down on him and she lost all strength to sit up as she allowed pleasure to wash over her. 

The good Hunter didn’t mind. He held her closer as she rode out the remains of her climax, frantically pushing himself into her wet, tight entrance. Soon, he followed her ascent with her own, releasing himself deep inside her. He then lay back, still holding onto her as he panted heavily.

It took a while before the both of them came down from their high. For a few minutes, nothing was heard but their own heavy breathing and they simply lay there as nothing more but a mess of naked tangled limbs. When the Doll finally found the strength to move, she leaned over to kiss him again and he gladly answered.

Soon, the two of them had settled under the blankets again. Now feeling properly tired, both physically and mentally, she bid him goodnight and affirmed she loved him as he did the same to her. She leaned her head against his chest and within moments, her eyes drifted shut as her mind passed into the realm of sleep.

That night, the Doll dreamed the strangest dream. She found herself standing on a hill in the middle of nowhere. It was dark, safe for the light of a low-hanging pale moon and a million stars. A soft wind blew through her hair, but the air was mild and warm, the lingering heat of a pleasant summer’s day. Still, there was something about the atmosphere that seemed off…

She looked around, trying to discern where she was. The dark made it exceedingly difficult, but with much difficulty, she could discern meadows and fields, small towns and forest. She was certain there was even an abandoned fishing hamlet in the distance. Yet what truly caught her eye was the large, sprawling shadow of a city.

Yharnam…

She instantly recognized her home city. The good Hunter and she had ventured outside of it several times by now, to visit the villages and even other nearby cities. They even had plans to travel to Great Britain soon, to see his country of birth. Still, those plans were for a distant future and right now, she couldn’t possibly fathom why she was standing here, alone on a hill during a summer’s night.

It was only then that she noticed something from the corner of her eye. A tall shape, standing motionless against the moonlight. Alarmed, the Doll jerked around, readying a spell that somehow refused to work. A brief sense of panic overtook her, both at this failure as well as the fact she wasn’t alone.

Forcing herself to see in the dark, she quickly deduced the shape was human. A woman, she could tell, with simple scholarly robes. She could not make out her face as her back was facing her, but the Doll could see long, silver-blond hair, similar to hers, tied back with a simple bow. She seemed to be staring up at the sky, transfixed on the moon above, arms held up in a gesture resembling a triangle with a side missing.

She knew what that gesture meant. The good Hunter had taught its meaning to her long ago. It was a means to make contact with the Gods. A sign of intelligent thought and understanding of complex shape. It was a request for knowledge from forces beyond human comprehension.

Something about the image unsettled the Doll somehow, but also drew her relentlessly. Her feet started to move by themselves towards the strange woman, driven by curiosity but somewhat tempered by caution. In the end, however, her inquisitiveness won out and she was soon right behind her.

On instinct, she extended her hand. She wanted to see what this woman looked like, turn her around so she could see her face. Something about this situation, the hill and the moon and the making contact, felt significant in ways she couldn’t understand and she wanted nothing more than to make sense of this image.

Yet before she could even touch the woman, she was gone. So was the hill, the moonlight and the outskirts of Yharnam. Everything evaporated in the rays of sun that shone through Byrgenwerth’s windows and had her open her eyes come morning. Dreams made way for reality once more with the dawn of a new day.

The good Hunter had woken up a bit earlier than her, per usual, and she swiftly got into her dressing gown to join him at breakfast. She decided not to tell him about the dream. After all, not all she saw in her sleep were visions gifted by the Old Blood and it seemed as strange and nonsensical as any normal dream by now. It didn’t seem worth bothering with and as a day of new discoveries and research awaited, she decided to leave well enough alone for now.


	2. A Royal Summons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doll's Christmas shopping takes a turn for the worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the cat lovers among us: the cat breeds referred to in this chapter are the Turkish Angora, the British Shorthair and the Russian Blue. These breeds were already around in Victorian Times in some way or another, except under different names. Hence why I refer to them here as "Ankara Cat", "English Type" and "Archangel Cat", the names used at the time.

“How quaint…”

The Doll couldn’t help but stare up at the sky and streets in wonder. Everywhere she looked, there was endless white. It was covering the buildings, the cobblestone and trees, even the market stalls and the people walking around as the frozen particles continued to descend from the heavens above. 

She and the Hunter were dressed in warm clothing as they stood in the middle of Yharnam, going over their list. The materials were much thicker than she was accustomed to, even than when she still wore the heavy doll clothing. While she still held a soft spot for her old clothes, as well as dresses in general, she nowadays preferred elegant and fancy but practical garb, with pants rather than skirts and made of light fabric. Her current attire felt like an odd throwback to the past, but considering the current weather, it was only sensible.

In the few years she lived in Yharnam now, she had never seen snow before. In fact, the city hardly seemed to have any change of seasons at all until very recently. Her lover figured it might be because the beastly curse was in remission and normality was returning now that the influence of the Great Ones had waned somewhat. He wasn’t certain, but she cared little. Despite the cold it brought, seeing the city covered in snow was one of the most beautiful things she had seen.

The strange, striking sight wasn’t the only thing that had her excited. While the rest of Yharnam went about their business as usual, she and the good Hunter had a celebration planned tonight. When the sun went down, it would be Christmas Eve and she greatly looked forward to it. 

She had never heard of the festivity before she met her husband. It was part of the religion of the Hunter’s home country rather than Yharnam’s and while he was no longer a believer, he still cherished some old traditions. Some of them were odd, like bringing a fir tree into the house and decorating it. Yet others, like the songs, stories and traditional holiday sweets and delicacies he managed to replicate, were much to her liking. It was one of her favorite times of the year by now and the fact they could now celebrate it while it was snowing only added to the excitement. 

The impending festivities were the reason she and the Hunter were currently in Central Yharnam. They still had supplies to gather, both for the festivities and future research, and didn’t plan to come out of Byrgenwerth again until the days of Christmas were over. As such, a thorough shopping trip was in order, as well as a long run of errands to deliver their most recent work to their many scientist patrons.

The Doll was particularly proud of her contributions. She had long since moved beyond merely assisting her lover in his work to create cures, runes and treatments. As in all other aspects of their life, she was his equal and had struck out on her own when it came to documenting the eldritch truth. If not by analyzing the laws of science as the Hunter did, then by putting her love for painting and illustration to more productive use than a mere pastime. 

While her husband was the academic mind, it was her who was blessed with creativity and unique interpretation. She had become adept at visualizing concepts and recreating the many visions and ideas she saw in her dreams. Her immense eye for detail and ability with pen and paint produced a wealth of medical sketches, scientific illustrations, archeological recordings and blueprints that were in especially high demand at the universities. 

So, as usual, their clients were glad to see them. There was the customary exchange of notes and samples, updates on new knowledge. After making sure there were no anomalies in their separate research, payment was due. The doctors and professors gladly paid for the materials they provided and with the coin in hand, the Doll and Hunter set out to make the last purchases needed for the holidays. 

That process was quick enough. With the decline of beasts in Yharnam came a renewed surge of commerce. What had only been a market of base products mere years ago was swiftly becoming more diverse. Luxury goods were increasingly common, including ones that were shipped in from foreign soil. Among those were foodstuffs from Great Britain as well and within half an hour, they had all the proper ingredients for a Christmas meal.

Of course, food wasn’t the only thing on their mind. As per the tradition from his homeland, the Hunter had suggested they should both bequeath each other a gift. She had liked the idea, but shopping together would ruin the element of surprise. As such, after at least fetching the necessities, she proposed for them to split up and meet back at Byrgenwerth. Her lover quickly agreed to the idea, saying he already had something in mind for her, and after a quick, playful kiss, he was off.

The Doll lingered at the market, letting her imagination run free on what to get him. She continued to stroll past the stands, looking at the wares. She had plenty of ideas. A new telescope, perhaps, or maybe something from Britain. Perhaps a new book or a rock of precious stone, which he enjoyed collecting. She was certain she would be able to find something. 

Browsing the market and shops was a lot of fun and she loved the fact that there were so many choices. Halfway through her search, she sat down at the corner of a street, munching on some bloaters she bought. She was weighing her options and leaning towards some new lenses for a microscope, when an alternative suddenly fell right into her lap. Or rather, it crawled into her lap, purring as it did.

“Well, aren’t you an odd little fellow…”

The Doll was rather surprised at the gray, turquoise-eyed cat brazenly begging for food. She reached out to stroke it and much to her delight, it responded by nuzzling. She could tell it was still a young cat, though no longer a kitten. It was incredibly thin and its beautiful blue-gray fur was shabby, indicating it was a stray. Still, she figured, it had to have been a pet for it to be so trusting of humans. It likely used to belong to someone who succumbed to the Scourge. She fed it some of her fish, musing with a smile that her lover would’ve enjoyed this encounter. 

Both she and her husband had a soft spot for animals in general and for some reason, animals did not seem to fear them as they did those affected by the Scourge. Perhaps animal minds were not complex enough to perceive the eldritch truth and merely saw unusual, but benevolent beings that fed and cared for them. Either way, she and her lover wholly appreciated the symbiotic partnership with their pets, but their favorites differed. Where the Doll preferred dogs for their loyalty and ability to learn tricks, the Hunter adored cats. He enjoyed their independence, their hunting abilities and the way they would sit with him as he conducted his research. As such, it wasn’t at all surprising that in the last few years, he had adopted a fair number of strays from the streets of Yharnam, just as she had done with her dogs. 

He had taught her enough about cats for her to know that this one was likely a breed of some sort; an Archangel cat perhaps as it looked like an illustration she had seen of one once. The majority of their “litter” was average housecats, but some of them clearly came from more specific origins. He had already come home with a white, longhaired and blue-eyed specimen named Timycha that he referred to as an Ankara cat. His other great find was Socrates, a stout, striped creature called an “English type” with a broad face that reminded her of the cat in that book about a girl in a dream world. No doubt he could tell her what this feline was, but unfortunately, he wasn’t around. 

As the cat happily curled up against her, however, an idea occurred to her. Experimentally, she picked it up and placed it in her basket. The animal didn’t protest, settling among the other items she bought and snuggling the warm blanket at the bottom. She petted it and laughed.

“Welcome to the family, little one. I am sure the good Hunter will appreciate your company.”

She got up, all giddy at having found the perfect gift for her husband. She got up, deciding it was time to head back home. At least, she planned to, but not before quickly heading to the nearby clothes’ store. She had been friends with the owner, Fiona, for several years now and she wanted to provide her with some holiday cheer too. So, she set off to the last stop of her day for a quick visit before heading home.

The moment the Doll approached the shop, however, she realized something was wrong. Normally, Fiona’s store was bustling, with patrons coming in and out or admiring the display. Now, it was uncharacteristically quiet for the time of day, with not a customer in sight. It was unusual, but what truly surprised her was that upon closer look, the sign on the door indicated the place was closed.

This struck her as odd. She had spoken to Fiona only yesterday and she hadn’t appeared sick or otherwise in a dire situation. In fact, her friend was in the habit of reporting any unusual reasons for absence onto the closed sign itself, as not to worry anyone. Had something happened to her unexpectedly?

She peered through the glass of the door and frowned. The inside of the shop showed signs of recent activity. Rolls of fabric were splayed over the counter. Several dresses and suits were not put away. An unfinished piece of needlework lay on a nearby table. Considering how abnormally tidy Fiona usually was, especially in her workplace, an eerie feeling started to come over her. A feeling that only increased when she tried the door and found it unlocked.

Without thinking twice, she entered. Her eyes darted around the room. Once again, she couldn’t see a soul and the place was dead quiet. Her suspicion that something was off increased and she called out.

“Fiona?”

No one answered and she called again. “Fiona, where are you? It’s me, Evetta. Are you here?”

She was met with complete quiet once more. By now, she was absolutely certain something was wrong. Some ill fate had befallen her friend, she just knew, and whatever it was, it had happened too fast for her to stop it. Without thinking, she found herself summoning an arcane tool as she cautiously ventured further into the store, measuring every step as she did.

Every few seconds, she glanced over her shoulder. Her ears scanned the establishment for any sound. She scoured the room for any trace of her friend or, more importantly, any trace of what might have happened to her.

Suddenly, the cat in her basket started to stir. The creature had woken up sometime before, but it was no longer demure as it had been before. Its body was tense, its tail swished rapidly and its ears lay flat against its head. A deep, hateful hissing was released from its throat, while its large turquoise eyes were fixed on an unseen thing not too far away. She knew enough then and there. She was in the presence of beast blood.

Then, she saw it. A movement. The air near her shifted ever so slightly. She could faintly make out an invisible force moving through the shop, coming at her with incredible speed.

The Doll’s response was swift. She called upon the beast inside her and forced a terrible roar. The force instantly knocked back her assailant. As he slammed into the wall, the blue elixir he had consumed had worn off and she needed only one look at the armor he wore to know who she was dealing with. 

She sneered, readying another spell while ignoring the panicked shrieks of her animal companion. “Where is my friend, Cainhurst creature?”

The Vileblood didn’t respond. He simply walked up again, stalking towards her like a wolf towards its prey. She looked him over and instantly noticed a syringe in his hand. That told her all she needed to know. Before the man could attempt a second attack, she summoned Ebrietas’s tentacles to defend herself. He rapidly sidestepped that attack, but before he could even get close, she pinned him in place with a Blacksky Eye. 

As her attacker collided with the carpet, she ran over. The Doll kicked the man’s sword out of his reach, before placing a boot firmly on his head. She prepared herself to call from beyond, looking down on her enemy as she repeated her question.

“I will not ask again. Where is Fiona Mahoney?”

“Evetta!”

Fiona’s shriek sent a chill down the Doll’s spine. While still keeping her tool trained on the fallen Vileblood, she turned in the direction of the sound. She didn’t like what she saw. 

A few feet away of her stood her friend, firmly in the grip of a female Vileblood. She looked disheveled, with a swollen lip and a bruise on her face. She could feel the anger inside of her rise, especially when the Vileblood pressed a pistol to the Irishwoman’s temple. 

“Step away from him. Or she dies.”

The Doll didn’t move nor did she will the spell from her hand. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t trust these people any more than the Healing Church. She merely took a moment to hush the upset cat, before rebuffing her adversary.

“Leave her out of this. Only a coward uses a human shield. I expect better even from a Vileblood.”

The woman glared at the retort. “Only a fool would ignore a summons by our Queen. You and the Hunter have done so repeatedly. You have brought this upon yourself.”

The Doll forced herself to remain calm. “Not all acknowledge the authority of Queen Annalise or Cainhurst. If this is how she asserts it, then trust me that this does not incur either my respect or the good Hunter’s.”

Then and there, she could see how the sting of her words took effect. The anger in the room was swelling and she could tell the female Vileblood was itching to actually pull the trigger on Fiona. Still, the Doll knew they were wiser than that, especially after her earlier display. Perhaps they had expected a frail dame in a corset before, but she had just shown that she was well-equipped to fend for herself. That clearly made their objective harder and, more importantly, it gave her leverage. 

She assessed the situation quietly, deliberating her options. “I take it your aim is to take me to Cainhurst Castle, as your Queen’s hostage until the good Hunter acquiesces to her request.”

The female Vileblood stared back without betraying emotions. “You would be the Queen’s guest. But from the looks of it, you seem more moved by an invitation in blood rather than ink.”

The Doll could see how she pressed the pistol further against Fiona’s temple and she put on her best indifferent face at her friend’s whimper. “If you lay a hand on Fiona, you force mine against you. And contrary to what you might think, I believe I have a fair chance at victory. So here is what we will do instead. I shall come with you, unharmed, to speak with your Queen. In exchange, you let her be, unharmed as well.”

The tense silence returned to the room as she stated her terms. She could see the Vileblood contemplate and her friend wordlessly pleading her to reconsider. She tried her best to keep an even face, but inwardly, she prayed to the Great Ones that she hadn’t just foolishly gambled Fiona’s life away. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the female withdrew the pistol. She released the Irishwoman, who instantly sank to the carpet while shaking all over. As the woman put away her weapon, the Doll took her boot off the male Vileblood’s head. He scrambled back onto his feet and while his gestures were polite, his voice betrayed poison.

“The coach awaits us outside, Milady.”

Her tongue ached to respond to his feigned courtesy, but she thought better of it. Instead, she simply nodded and requested to be given a moment. For now, her would-be captors seemed eager to oblige her and she quickly walked over to Fiona. Her friend was still trembling and she helped her up.

“Did they..?”

Instantly, she shook her head. “No, just roughed me up. Apparently, they heard you’d be in town today and figured you’d come here…”

The pangs of guilt the Doll felt at that moment where immense and she smiled sadly. “I am so sorry for your trouble. I never meant for this to happen. Still, I have no choice but to ask for a last favor…”

She only felt relief when the Irishwoman smiled eagerly and she held out her basket with the cat. “Look after this little fellow until I come back. If Nathaniel comes here looking for me, tell him where I am and tell him this is his intended Christmas gift. Can you do that for me?”

Fiona nodded at hearing the Hunter’s name, but as she took the still upset feline from her, she put her head closer to her. “You shouldn’t go with them. These people…they’re bad. I heard nothing but bad things about them…”

The Doll shook her head, effortlessly putting on her bravest face. “And I tend to believe none of what I hear and half of what I see. Do not worry for me, Fiona. I will manage.”

The words came out with so much ease that Fiona believed them and, for a moment, so did she. She then bid her friend a good day, before returning to the two Vilebloods and asking them to take her to the carriage. They immediately escorted her out the store and through the alleyways. At the end of the longest, narrowest one, an ominous black stage coach was waiting for them. 

She boarded the vehicle without protest, noting with some distaste that the Vilebloods joined her inside. They then told the unseen coachman to move. Soon, the streets of Yharnam were rapidly passing her by and she found herself passing through Hemwick and getting ever further away from home.

The ride was one of utmost quiet, as neither Vileblood seemed interested in speaking to her. Frankly, she returned the sentiment and appreciated the lack of conversation. It gave her time to think. Her quick gamble to save Fiona had paid off, but now she knew she needed every second to plan her words if she was going to remain safe.

The one thing she was certain of was that they didn’t intend to kill her. It would be rather foolish if they did. They had more of an interest in the good Hunter than they had in her. If she was leverage, she was needed alive and well in order not to provoke his wrath and she was confident they knew how dangerous he could be. The Vilebloods likely had knowledge of what had happened in Yahar’Gul and unlike the reckless Choir, they would not risk the burning down of their stronghold.

The Doll’s mind turned to Queen Annalise. She was well-aware of the ruler of Castle Cainhurst, in no small part because of the Hunter’s stories and her own twisted origins. Even so, she knew little of the woman’s personality and motivations. If her situation was anything to go by, she feared the Vileblood Queen might be a cruel mistress indeed. 

Still, what could they want from her lover? She assumed it had to do with his blood. As obsessed with the Old Blood as the Healing Church was, the Vilebloods were likely very interested in a Great One that dwelled among humankind. A human that ascended successfully was rare, after all, and one that kept his human faculties was practically unheard of. She shuddered to think what exact designs they had for such a prize and worse, what they would do afterwards. 

In the end, mulling over all these matters didn’t help her much. So she sat back, forcing herself to calm down and rest. The journey to Castle Cainhurst would be a long one and she needed all the energy she could muster. Besides, he had been tired a lot lately as well as nauseous for reasons she could not comprehend. Any kind of rest seemed good about now. She closed her eyes, wishing to be alone with her thoughts for a while and not having to look upon the two Vilebloods with her. 

Soon, she found herself back on that hill outside of Yharnam. Again, it was dark and again, there was that lingering summer heat. This time, however, she only felt chills in spite of it. She was afraid to turn around, frightened of what she might see.

In the end, however, morbid curiosity won out and she turned around. Much to her worry, the woman she had seen before was still there. She still stood there, looking up at the sky and attempting to make contact. 

The Doll hesitated. Part of her wondered if she would wake from a dream once more should she go up to her. That, she recalled, was what happened the last time.

Perhaps, she figured, the images of a dream should not be disturbed. That made sense. Dreams were not real and half the things she saw in her sleep were events from the past, present and future. It was possible those were meant to play out untainted. A change of tactic therefore seemed in order. 

So, rather than approach the woman, she decided to walk around her this time. She carefully moved one foot in front of the other, afraid she might offset the scene she was treading somehow. She walked every so quietly, the dry grass cracking underneath her boots and her every breath audible as she tried to catch a glimpse of the woman.

When she finally did, she could only stare. The woman’s face was not like what she may have suspected it to be. It was slim and pale, with a straight nose and most notably, dark chestnut eyes. It was not identical to hers, yet resembled hers in several small and odd ways that it was impossible to dismiss it entirely.

The Doll’s pale eyes met her dark ones and she followed them upwards to the moon. What was it up there that she was trying to reach out to? What exactly was she trying to accomplish?

Suddenly, there was a shift. The summer winds ceased to blow. The air became colder. The dark blue sky changed color ever so slightly. Something was about to happen, she knew then and there.

The sudden change panicked the Doll. The atmosphere suddenly felt familiar, in ways she was not sure she truly wished to experience. She had only felt hints of it when she first awoke in her human body, but now, it felt stronger than ever.

She was fixed on the heavens, frozen over and motionless. A strange energy seemed to descent from it, something not all that different from what she felt whenever the good Hunter reverted to his true form. It was a herald of a thing more eldritch entering the human plane…

She jerked awake with a gasp, her body twitching briefly as she returned to the world of the living. She looked around, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. A discontented huff left her mouth when she saw the two Vilebloods sitting beside her and realized she was still in the blasted carriage. 

She quietly looked around the inside of the vehicle. It had clearly seen better days. The wood was old and rotting, brittle with age. The fabric on the seats was worn and faded. Still, it looked like the bolts on the door were still sufficient enough to keep it in place and the bars on the windows made it impossible to squirm through them. She sighed. She really _was_ going to Cainhurst Castle indeed…

After what felt like an awkward eternity, the carriage finally halted. She nearly jumped as it did and her heart skipped a beat. Part of her hoped there was some kind of block onto the road, but such hopes were squashed when both the Vilebloods got up and opened the door. 

She was met with the sight of snowfall when she looked outside, far heavier than in Yharnam. The cobblestone was covered with a thick layer of white, enough to practically bury the coach she was in. It was not the cheery kind of flurry either. It was a relentless kind of frost, the kind that came with a winter that brought nothing but famine and death. Rather appropriate, perhaps, considering the location.

Her would-be captors exited the vehicle. They then turned to her, with the male offering his hand to help her out of the carriage. She accepted it graciously, deciding to cooperate for now. 

Being accommodating allowed her to swiftly survey her surroundings. Despite the snowstorm raging all around her, she could distinguish the dark, gigantic gates of the Castle in the distance. They were hard to miss, dark and gigantic as they were. They looked ominous even at this distance, like a hungry maw waiting to swallow her whole. 

Uneasy by that idea, the Doll quickly glanced the other way. She wished she hadn’t. Her breath halted in her throat upon seeing a huge gap in the bridge to the Castle, too large for a coach to have possibly passed over. She looked around and much to her alarm, she couldn’t discover another entrance. She shuddered. If they had traversed such a gap, surely she should’ve noticed so…

That impending feeling of dread only grew stronger when she gave the carriage a second glance. She had hoped to see a coach driver, but no such man or woman was to be found. The seat at the front of the coach was empty and there was nowhere where a person could have gone to quick enough for her not to notice. 

Yet what truly drove the parade of madness home was the horses. There were none now. Or at least, no living ones. Still tethered to the vehicles were two corpses, emaciated and withered, frozen solid by being exposed to the elements. They looked like they had been in that state for quite some time too.

The Doll fought her trembling, knowing very well it wasn’t caused by the cold. Once more, the reality of her situation hit her. She was alone in enemy territory, amidst strange and eldritch forces, and she was a long way from home. 

Even so, she fought not to let it show. She pushed back the sudden wave of nausea that welled up in her stomach and did her best to keep an even face. There was some pride to be taken in the fact she succeeded and she kept her dignity as the two Vilebloods guided her beyond the gates and across the courtyard. 

She was going to escape from here. She swore that solemn oath to herself as she traversed the deep snow. Eventually, the good Hunter would realize she was missing and find her, but she wasn’t going put her fate in his hands. She was going to wait. Going to watch. She was going to smile and nod and curtsey while keeping her eyes and ears open and device her own way to walk out of here unharmed.

It should be doable. She had suffered Adella, the Healing Church, the Choir and even the foul remains of the Executioners. Those were all dead or dying, yet she was still here. If so, then what were the Vilebloods to her but just another band of blood-addled organized zealots? 

That thought gave her courage and with her head held high, she allowed her attendants to escort her inside. It was time to play a game of dare with an immortal Queen. She had no use of tears or shivers if she were to win it. She was going into the lion’s den and here, there would be monsters.


	3. A Child of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doll struggles to stay alive in Cainhurst as the Hunter searches for her.

Forsaken.

That was the first word that came to the Doll’s mind as she entered the giant structure. Once upon a time, it was no doubt a place of splendor that reflected a proud, noble bloodline. Yet now, it was merely a shadow of its old self, a place that should be dying but was sustained by a power not of this world. If that was the mark of immortality, she was not sure it was desirable at all.

She, however, was smart enough not to express such sentiments out loud. When in the midst of enemy territory, one should watch their tongue. Especially when one was surrounded with the type of foe that indulged in unethical use of Old Blood.

Indeed, Cainhurst’s residents made no secret of their practices. The halls were mostly empty, but the few Hunters and servants all bore visible traces of the Beastly Scourge. She could see the feral look in their eyes as they looked in her direction and she steeled herself in response. Something told her they already knew who she was and even if she was their hostage, she did not intend to be cowed.

One of the servants walked up to the Vilebloods and the man of their party smiled. “Tell our Queen that we have arrived with Mistress Evetta in our company.”

The wretched being nodded. “Our Queen has indicated she wishes to dine with her guest. We will take it from here and see to it that she is presentable for the occasion.”

The two Vilebloods returned the gesture, before handing her over to him without much ado. “The servants will see to your needs. Do not keep Her Majesty waiting.”

The Doll remained absolutely quiet to this, but nonetheless followed the servant as he indicated for her to go with him. A few females took over from him, guiding her through long corridors and over snowy ramparts to what looked like a wing for guests. The room was impeccably clean, yet it was very likely it hadn’t seen an actual occupant in centuries.

Once there, the door was locked behind her and she was left to her own devices. It didn’t take long for her to discover a basin. Catching onto the intent of why it was there, she walked towards it and started to clean herself up. In normal circumstances, she knew guests at noble houses were bathed by servants and she counted her blessings that she was spared this. She didn’t bother to undress, simply limiting herself to the important areas. This was not a place to be vulnerable, after all.

After several more moments, the door opened again. Instantly, she turned towards it, readying herself for whatever came in. An ancient, shrunken female servant came wandering inside, with what looked like a large bundle of cloth. She shuffled towards the nearby bed and splayed it on the surface. Only now did she see that it was a dress, finely embroidered and made of fine, colorful silk that only those of affluence could afford.

The old lady smiled a toothless smile and despite her inhuman appearance, her voice still had a comforting sense of humanity and friendliness to it. “Her Majesty requests you wear proper attire for dinner. This is a very old dress, but it is still in good condition and seems like it will fit you. Please don’t be late, Milady. The Queen expects you.”

With those words, she left the room again with a small bow. The Doll only barely reminded herself to return the politeness. Her pale eyes were drawn towards the dress on the bed. She stood nailed to the ground as she looked it over and she bit the inside of her cheek not to be overcome with a sense of sheer horror and disgust.

After several moments, she forced herself to walk towards the garment. Her hands were sweaty as she picked it up and she fought to get her heartbeat under control as she undressed. Dizziness overtook her as she urged herself to slip into the item of clothing, which fit her perfectly just like she feared. Even though the silk was comfortable, freshly washed and pressed, it felt horrifying against her skin. To her, this was not simply a fancy dress. Knowing what she did, it felt like she was wearing the skinned hide of another instead.

By strength she didn’t know she possessed, she managed to don and adjust the dress. She didn’t bother looking at herself in the nearby full-length mirror to check if it was properly secured; it was punishment enough that she was dressed in these silks. Instead, she focused on the battle she was about to fight, knowing she had to keep her wits about her for what was to come.

Gathering her courage, she knocked onto the door. The old female servant opened it and looked her over with a smile. She then requested her to follow her and guided her through the giant, seemingly endless halls. Despite their sizes, they made her feel closed in and a strange weeping noise made her feel like ghosts still lingered in these corridors.

Soon, they arrived at the largest dining hall she had seen in her life. Like the rest of the Castle, it was marred with age but still bore the traces of past grandeur. In the center of the giant structure was a huge table, draped with the finest linen and set with expensive china plates and silverware. 

At the head of the table, in a chair far more akin to a throne, sat a figure. A woman, with the same white skin and pale eyes as her and hair so blond it seemed almost white, though she somehow felt it must not have always been so. She was dressed in a grand dress of the deepest blue and upon her head was an elegant crown. 

There wasn’t a doubt in the Doll’s mind that this was the fabled Queen of the Vilebloods. Part of her was surprised at her appearance. For reasons she didn’t understand herself, she had expected something more monstrous somehow. Her visage seemed rather normal save for her paleness, even beautiful, but it didn’t veil the sense of age and potential danger that lingered around her.

She didn’t rise from her throne. The Doll noted how the Queen regarded her with a cool gaze, though she had a feeling there was something more behind it. Even so, she decided to play along for now and curtseyed politely, regardless of the revulsion that gestured caused her. 

She could hear the monarch chuckle. “We expect Our subjects to kneel, but We will forgive thy ignorance in favor of appreciating thy manners. Those are increasingly rare these days…”

The Doll simply nodded. Her actions had not been deliberate, but she was glad to have just weaseled her way out of kneeling. She was not certain she could bear that level of degradation. She wisely remained silent and let her captor speak. 

“Visitor, Mistress Evetta, I am Annalise. Queen of Castle Cainhurst. Ruler of the Vilebloods, and sworn enemy of the Church. Sit and be Our guest.”

Knowing it was an order rather than a request, the Doll sat down on the chair at the right side of the monarch. She was not well-versed in royal etiquette, but she made sure to keep her elbows off the table and not stare her host in the eye. 

Even so, it seemed the sovereign flaunted all convention. It was hard to miss how her icy eyes traced across every inch of her face. They seemed to burrow into her skin, hungry and inquisitive, as if to memorize every pore. Her face remained emotionless as she did, but there was something about the intensity of her inquisitive gaze that made the younger woman extremely uncomfortable.

Not certain how long she could bear it, she decided to strategically address it. “Do I displease you somehow, Your Majesty?”

The Queen shook her head. “No. But looking upon thee is as if I am looking upon a ghost.”

Immediately, the younger woman knew what she was talking about and that there was no point in feigning ignorance, even if she despised seeing it confirmed. “This ghost was named Lady Maria, I presume. And this dress was hers, was it not?”

Immediately, the Vileblood Queen snapped her head in her direction. Now, the Doll could see a flurry of emotions in those eyes. Suspicion. Surprise. Anger. Shockingly enough, she swore she could even see grief. How much of that an undead aristocrat could feel, she wasn’t certain. Yet, something of an explanation seemed in order.

“My creator, the First Hunter, was infatuated with her and created me in her likeness, before the good Hunter made me flesh. That is the extent of my knowledge about her.”

It was the truth and frankly, already more than she wanted to say on this matter. After having become human and taking a name of her own, she disliked being reminded of Lady Maria. It reminded her of the unfair burden put upon her and of her own lack of agency. Secure in the love of a person who didn’t wish her to be another, she cherished living away from the woman’s shadow. As far as she was concerned, the “inspiration” for her should not hold an important place in her life. 

She must have conveyed some of this sentiment nonverbally. Even so, there were no harsh words on Annalise’s end. All she got was a quiet nod and for a moment, she seemed lost in her thoughts, mumbling to herself under her breath.

“Curse you, Gehrman… Luring her away from home was not yet enough for you, you wretched man…”

Now, the Doll was convinced there was indeed loss and sorrow in her voice. Even her cold eyes seemed unblinking and gazing at infinity for a moment, lost in sad reminiscence. She didn’t know what to think of it. The undead were warped yet not entirely without feeling, it seemed. It took a few moments for the monarch to recover and she nodded solemnly. 

“Thou art correct on both accounts. Lady Maria was a distant niece and very dear to Us. Her departure and demise were deeply mourned here at Cainhurst Castle.”

The younger woman managed to sound sympathetic. “My condolences.”

Her host accepted her words with a wry smile. “We are grateful for thy sympathy. Now, let us eat, rather than be dismal.”

With those words, a door opened nearby. Several servants slipped into the hall, each of them carrying what looked like large, heavy trays. They circled around the Queen and her, setting them down on the table and taking off the lids.

The Doll quietly braced herself as she did. Some pessimistic side of her mind expected to see horrors on those trays, like skinned animals, body parts or at the very least stale or rotten fare. Yet as she dared look at the presented meal, she calmed somewhat. 

It was something of a small comfort, not to mention a surprise, to discover completely normal food in front of her. The plates were stacked with fresh meats and fish, fruits, soup, baked potatoes and cooked vegetables that looked exceptionally well-prepared. It seems Cainhurst also took advantage of the recent improvement in Yharnam’s economy. 

Seeing edible food was a relief, yet she still couldn’t help the wave of nausea that washed over her when smelling the lamb and codfish. She dug her fingers into her lap. She had been nauseous a lot as of the last few days and seemed to smell everything more intensely than usual. Still, she knew this was the worst possible time to get sick and she managed to contain herself, allowing the servants to put the portions on her plate. Then, they disappeared once more and as the Queen picked up her cutlery, so did she.

The food did indeed taste as good as it looked and as they ate the first few bites in tensed silence, the Doll was grateful her husband had taken the time to teach her table manners. He had wanted her to at least know, though meal etiquette beyond basic propriety was rarely applied in their home of Byrgenwerth. She and the Hunter mostly ate with their hands and often didn’t even bother sitting at the dinner table, preferring the comfortable couch in front of the fireplace. 

Thinking of the Hunter, the Doll fought a despaired sigh. Right now, in this bleak Castle, she longed intensely for those quiet, uncomplicated dinners. What she would give to be home instead… She could only hope he would come for her soon.

“Is the food to thy liking?”

The sudden question of Queen Annalise startled her and she was proud how even she managed to sound when answering. “It is most excellent, Your Majesty.”

The monarch sat back onto her throne. Only now did the Doll spy the abysmally small amount of food on her plate and noted that she had barely touched it at all. Again, she noted just how slim her host was. She was rather waifish herself, but the Queen looked abnormally thin even next to her. Yet then, she figured vampiric immortals might not find much need for eating. Besides, from what she heard, Annalise usually consumed other things than food. 

“Good. We rarely have guests anymore, but would look ill on Us if we could not accommodate thee properly.”

The Doll simply nodded, barely resisting a remark that it was awfully kind to properly feed and house a hostage. “My thanks, Your Grace.”

The Queen cocked her head. “There is no need for thee to feign pleasantry. We brought thee here against thy will in order to coerce thy spouse into an audience. Thou art not wrong to resent Us for this.”

For the first time in the conversation, the younger female wasn’t entirely certain how to respond. She hadn’t quite expected the monarch to be so forward about the situation. Fear threatened to take the better of her, yet she again realized that would be disastrous. Annalise was daring her to be forthcoming with her feelings and she doubted that doing so was going to be in her advantage. If she were to weather this, she needed to be clever. 

She turned back to her plate to eat again, trying her best to sound somewhat nonchalant. “Common-law husband, not spouse. We are not yet married by law. Being branded a heretic by the local religious institution tends to do that. But I am not so much resentful as I am curious, Your Grace. We have many enemies. By now, all that truly sets them apart are their motives.”

Her host smiled. “Thou wantest to know if I am like that wretched Church, seeing any change as a threat to my power. Rest assured, We are not that shortsighted. Thy research has benefitted Yharnam and, by extension, benefitted Us as well.”

That little morsel of information didn’t sound particularly comforting to the Doll. She and the Hunter researched their eldritch knowledge responsibly, working to undo all the damage the warring factions in Yharnam had done to the city. The notion that this somehow benefitted a dangerous house of aristocratic vampires was terrifying. Even so, she held her tongue. 

Annalise leaned onto the table, chuckling softly. “Tell me, Mistress Evetta, how much dost thou know of the history of the Vilebloods and Cainhurst Castle?”

In this, the younger female felt being honest didn't hurt. “Only the basics. One of them was a scholar at Byrgenwerth, who took some of the Old Blood and brought it here, birthing the first Vileblood. For this, the Healing Church branded them apostates and formed the Executioners headed by Logarius to hunt them down. They were massacred and Logarius sealed the Queen using himself as a ward.”

The Queen seemed amused. “Thou art knowledgeable. Indeed, thou looketh upon the first Vileblood. My father, the scholar Alexander, gave me the blood to drag me away from death’s door, ridden with scarlet fever. He did so against his brethren’s wishes and we all paid the price dearly…”

The Doll listened politely as she ate and Annalise continued. “First, there were the beasts. The blood healed me, turned me into what I am today. But the other folk, commoner and noble alike, wanted it as well. They took it from him, murdered him in a frenzy like wild animals. They had their blood, but it did not do for them as what it did for me…”

She sighed for a moment, apparently reminiscing bitterly. “It was then that I ascended as Queen. The first to claim that title in centuries. I was young still, not yet aware of what I was. I tried my best to maintain order, to rid us of this Beastly Scourge. Yet it was too late. Cainhurst Castle had become addled with its own unique blood and the Vilebloods were born.” 

Her expression turned dark. “Then, decades later, the Executioners came. The Healing Church saw us as a threat, even if what they did was no different from us. Logarius and his thugs came to Cainhurst and slaughtered all of us. Our knights and soldiers, even our women and children. They saved me for last. It was there that I discovered the true extent to which the Old Blood had changed me.”

She looked across the room and gestured to a bronze mask on a pedestal. “I cannot die. Not by age or combat. No steel can bleed me dry, no poison can destroy my insides. After a while, Logarius realized this. He bound me to that cursed mask and sealed me in my throne room, leaving me to rot.”

“That is a cruel fate, Your Majesty…”

The Doll realized she wasn’t even being compliant by saying this. Much to her own horror, she found she genuinely felt some sympathy for the undead Queen. To her, to be locked away, alone with one’s thoughts and unable to die, seemed like a nightmare she wouldn’t even wish upon her worst enemies in the Healing Church. Even so, her sense of compassion only extended so far. Annalise’s response strengthened her in that conviction.

“Do not give me thy pity, Mistress Evetta. I have no need of it. What is done is done and it no longer matters. I am free of the mask and my prison and soon, I may be one step closer to fulfilling my destiny.”

The way she said that last word did not sit well with the Doll. There was a kind of inhuman satisfaction in it, an eerie sense of foreboding. It gave her a new reminder that she shouldn’t let her guard down.

In that moment, the Queen turned her head. She barked at the servants in the kitchen, demanding they would come clean out the table and bring them the dessert. With her looking away, the younger woman acted quickly. Her eyes turned to a carving knife left on the meat tray and in one swift movement, she snatched it and hid it under a fold of her dress. She snapped back to sitting up straight as the Queen turned back to her. 

“Dost thou believe in destiny, Mistress Evetta?”

The Doll shook her head. “Hardly, Your Grace. My destiny, it seems, was to be another Lady Maria and I have not fulfilled that nor do I intend to. May I ask the purpose of this question?”

The monarch smiled, a hint of sadness audible in her voice. “Contrary to the lies of the Healing Church, I have not always reveled in my rotten state. For a long time, I resented it, cursed it. It is not a blessing to remain unchanging. All those I loved are gone or have left. I have nothing anymore, save for my title and time. And I have used mine well in order to find the truth.”

By then, dessert was served. Tarts, dessert biscuits and pudding that, she had to admit, looked simply divine. She found herself settling on the sweets with almost unladylike fervor, not understanding her almost fanatic dedication to the particular sweet taste. Still, she barely registered the food she put into her mouth, her attention solely on her host.

“And what exactly is that truth, Your Grace?”

Again, there was that eerie smirk. “The purpose of my lineage. My father was of the House of Cainhurst, but it was my mother who was directly related to the ancient Pthumerians, perhaps even Queen Yharnam herself. The Pthumerians were chosen by the Great Ones, their nigh immortal blood superior, their queen slated to bear Their children. Yet Their civilization has fallen and now, that duty falls to Us.” 

Then and there, the Doll understood and she couldn’t stop her own voice from sounding spooked. “You want the good Hunter’s blood.”

Annalise chuckled. “Unlike those fools in Yahar’Gul, Our eyes are opened. Thy lover has ascended. He is one of Them now. Do not misunderstand, We have no intention of harming thee or him, but We have tired of the blood dregs of pretenders. For me to bear a child of blood and bring prosperity to Cainhurst, I must look to that of a Great One itself. With thou here, he is sure to come.” 

By now, the younger woman was not certain how to respond as the Queen’s mad plan was finally revealed. She wondered if she even should. The details alone seemed too absurd. 

It was indeed true that blood was the medium of the Great One Oedon and His means of impregnation, yet she was not quite certain if it were the same for her husband. While the exact workings of his true Great One form were a mystery, his human veneer seemed to function like that of a normal man. He ate, drank, slept, defecated and bled. He even produced seemingly normal issue during intercourse. That last matter made it seem highly unlikely that he would also reproduce through blood. 

Then there was the most important problem, namely the good Hunter’s strength and headstrongness. While she didn’t doubt the Vilebloods were more powerful and intelligent than the Church, her husband was an eldritch being. An eldritch being that could unleash deadly terror when she was threatened and had proven willing to do so before. What made Annalise think he would give his blood so freely?

However, her chain of thought was interrupted by another wave of nausea, followed by unpleasant cramps. A hand flew to her stomach, noting how hard it felt, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress in order to maintain her composure. Before, she had thought the queasiness was a result of her situation, but this cramping was a new addition. She forced herself to take small breaths, knowing this was not the place to show weakness.

Her recovery, however, came too late. The Queen had noticed. She sat up, staring at her with both curiosity and faint alarm.

“Art thou ill?”

The Doll managed to shake her head. “It’s nothing, Your Majesty. Just a little under the weather. I have been for a while.”

Much to her dismay, the monarch did not relent. “How long exactly? It is not wise to carry on ravished by sickness, Mistress Evetta.”

She gave her the best indifferent look she could. “About a month, Your Majesty, but really, it is of no matter. I will not drop dead in these halls, I am certain.”

For a brief second, there was a faint smile upon the ruler’s lips. Yet just as the Doll hoped she would drop the subject, she suddenly rose with terrifying speed. The younger woman shivered at seeing just how tall Annalise truly was. The Vileblood Queen was even taller than her and despite her graceful movements, there was something predatory about her. 

She willed herself not to jump from her seat and flee as the monarch approached. A pale, slender hand suddenly reached out to her, settling on her belly. It felt cold, the Doll realized with abject horror. Cold like death…

“My blood be damned… Thou carriest the seed…”

Of all the disturbing things the ruler of the Vileblood had said this evening, the words she just uttered caused equal amounts fear and confusion. Had she caught on to what she was? That her human body was, in part, made from the Hunter’s own blood? She blinked, trying to process the possible implications while the Queen seemed to talk to herself.

“Of course, thou art with child! For thou to be Maria’s mirror image, thou must have Pthumerian blood. Therefore, thou art able to carry a child of blood as thou dost now.”

Those were the words that briefly caused the Doll’s world to shatter. “With child”. It felt like her body was encased in ice and her tongue felt dry. Was Annalise truly claiming she was in fact…pregnant?

She was surprised to hear her own voice. "What makes that Your Majesty think such a far-fetched thing?"

Again, there was a knowing smile caught between mania and sadness, combined with a voice whose tone was irrefutable. "I recognize the signs. I was a mother too, once..."

Sudden dizziness overtook the Doll. To hear the Queen make a compelling argument for pregnancy was worse than hearing her crazy plans. No, she couldn’t be expecting. Not possibly. Certainly, she had a human body now, one that even went through menses every month. Still, cobbled together from different sources as it was, could it possibly carry life? Her host was clearly insane. Why should she believe such a prosperous claim?

Yet then, she recalled the unprotected intercourse she had a month ago and realized her menses had not yet occurred even though it was overdue. Her stomach felt somewhat hard and swollen. She had been sick and averse to strong smells for a while now. Could those be signs that she was expecting? It they were, what would that mean for her? Especially since the father of the child, the Hunter, was not even human?

Whatever little she knew of interbreeding between human and Great One was disturbing. It usually didn’t end well for the mother, be it physically or mentally. The offspring was often monstrous and most of the time, it did not live very long.

Even so, she knew this was hardly the time to contemplate the possible implications of that kind of pregnancy. She was still trapped in this Castle, with a woman who was obviously as a mad as a hatter. _Especially_ when it came to the matter of bearing a Great One's child...

Suddenly, the Castle shook down to its foundation. It pulled her out of her reverie and she jumped from her chair. Horrific growls echoed through the dining hall and the shadows in the room started to shift. Suddenly, eyes started to open on the walls and inhuman whispers drifted through the air. The words were unknown even to her, but she recognized their threatening tone.

The good Hunter! He was here! He had found her! For a moment, relief flooded through her. If he was here, her ordeal would soon be over.

The Queen, however, simply laughed and stared straight at the eyes. “Ah, Moon-scented Hunter. Thou art late. For it seems We have come to a solution for which thou art not required. Thou must wait outside, until We have conducted Our business.”

Another rumble shook the Castle. The monarch, however, didn’t even flinch. The Doll flinched when she suddenly felt arms digging into her skin. On either side of her, she found two Vileblood Hunters. They urged her out of the chair and on her feet, facing Annalise as she spoke again.

“Take our guest to the hospital wing and call the physician. We have pressing need of a caesarian section, as well as a fetal transplantation. Tell him I will ready myself as well. Fear not the Hunter’s raging, for Our ward will keep him at bay long enough for Us to get what We need.”

The Doll was almost grateful the Hunters held her up, for her legs seemed to give out that very instance. She had read enough biology books to know what a caesarian section was and enough of an inkling about Great One biology to understand what the Vileblood Queen was trying to accomplish. Then and there, she willed to stay conscious or at least to keep the food inside her stomach. That effort only increased when she felt the Queen’s hand on her cheek.

“Thou serveth me well, Mistress Evetta. It seems I have no need of thy lover after all. Do not fret. I will return thee to him alive and well, no worse for wear, once the procedure is done.” 

It took the younger woman all of her might not to spit her in the face. Curses were burning behind her lips. Who did she think she was? To think she could simply take of her whatever she wanted? It didn’t matter that she had no idea if she even wanted this possible child in her body. That did not mean another was entitled to make a decision for her. 

The Hunter, unable to enter the Castle, seemed to share her anger. The shaking of the building intensified and his inhuman screams turned louder. The manifestations inside the hall intensified. The threats in the eldritch tongue continued and the building barely remained standing as he fought to breach the ward.

She didn’t fight as the two Vilebloods carried her off. She allowed them to drag her out of the dining hall, over the windy, snowy ramparts towards the medical wing. Every step was counted by her, every movement of her captors was stored in her memories. The Doll quietly waited until the way a good distance removed from the dining hall, before suddenly digging her heels in.

The Vilebloods noticed immediately and the larger of the two yanked at her violently. “Move.”

She ignored him, giving him a defiant look. Anger flashed across his face and his grip on her upper arm on her increased. He moved closer to her to put his weight into it, forcing her into motion. Inwardly, she smiled. This was what she was waiting for.

In one rapid motion, she reached for the knife in her dress and plunged it into the man’s side. A startled shout ring into her ears and she could feel how he let go of her to grasp at the wound. Without hesitation, she aimed her second stab at his throat, before swinging her weapon at the arm of her other captor. Before he could counter, she dug the weapon into his neck and as he sank to the ground, her instinct took over and she ran.

Escape.

That was the only thing on her mind now. She had to get out of this damned fortress and make it outside to where the Hunter was. She didn’t doubt he had managed to find a way across the broken bridge. If she reached him, she would be as good as out of harm’s way. 

Yet she first had to get out. That would not be easy. Between the servants and the Vileblood Hunters, there was the Queen herself. She spoke of some sort of ward, one that was currently greatly delaying the Hunter’s ability to access the place. There was a good chance such a thing worked both ways and that she could not simply leave through the front gates. 

As she slipped back to the now abandoned dining hall, an idea occurred to her. The mask! Annalise had mentioned something about how it bound her. It was very well possible it might hold the key to the ward as well. She couldn't be sure of it, but she nontheless walked up to the pedestal and took it. It may serve her anyway.

Once more, she cursed the dress she was wearing. It hampered her movements severely and would make escaping a whole lot more difficult. She looked across the corridors, remembering where she was. The room she had changed clothes in was not too far from here. If she could get there and put on her own clothes, it would help her significantly. 

Despite the obvious danger, she decided to risk it. Making sure not to run into anyone on the way, she quickly found the room and went inside. She let out a relieved sigh at seeing her comfortable winter clothes on the bed and rapidly undid the dress, shrugging out of it. The Doll didn’t bother picking it up and rapidly slipped on her trousers, vest and coat. 

Feeling a lot more comfortable, she peeked out the door and started to formulate a plan. It likely wouldn’t be long before the dead or dying Vileblood Hunters would be noticed. Then, the entire horde of the Queen would be after her. She would have to move, if not down to the gates, then upwards to the roof and figure out what to do from there.

She decided to risk it. With one final look around, she burst through the door and ran. She sprinted down the halls and through the corridors, past any servants she saw and avoiding Vilebloods at all costs. Occasionally, she resorted to her arcane tools as she cleared the way, fighting her way past several halls as she ascended up never-ending flights of stairs.

The Castle seemed like a haunted maze, filled with memories of a bloody past. Every now and then, the rooms ended and she had to resort to shimmying across slippery, snowy ledges. She could feel them creak under her boots and she did her best not to look down, lest she would get vertigo and plummet to her death. 

Every now and then, she swore she could see ghosts surrounding her, weeping and screaming with blood spurting out of their slit throats. They came out screaming while brandishing ornate knives, while others wailed at her from the severed heads in their hands. She used her Old Hunter’s Bone to slip past them, keeping her distance as she unleashed devastating white light from beyond on them and pushing forward as she did, clambering up a large ladder to get to the highest floor.

Her heart was beating in her throat by the time she reached the roof. It was hardly an improvement over the dark Castle. The wind howled all around her and even in her winter clothes, she was shivering madly. The heavy snowfall was blinding her eyes and her boots gave her little grip on the slippery roof tiles. Still, she pressed on, clambering over the rooftops and toeing across narrow crenels for some way out. 

Some part of her hoped that she would make it to some place where the Hunter could reach her. He had to. There was no way she could scale the Castle walls from this height and as the bells started tolling in the towers, she was certain everyone inside was now aware of her flight. She had no choice but hope he would indeed be able to find her here and help her escape.

All of a sudden, the structure of the rooftops changed. It became flatter and more accessible and the tiles changed to actual stones she was able to walk on. She could see structures in the distance, almost as if there was some kind of building situated on top of it. That idea seemed odd to her, but she had little time to dwell on it. All she had to go on was the hope to escape.

However, the relief of being out of the storm quickly turned into despair once she entered it. The building was eerie, filled with unsettling statues and two thrones at the end of the room under a stained glass window. An old throne room, no doubt, one that had been abandoned long ago and held nothing of use to her. More importantly, it was a dead end.

“Did thou thinkest thou could truly escape me?”

The hairs in the back of the Doll’s neck stood on end and she was fearful to turn around. The Queen’s laugh echoed in her ears and petrified her where she stood. Her heartbeat ceased and her blood ran cold. She couldn’t be here. Not possibly…

A swift glance behind her, however, revealed the terrible truth. A few feet behind her, between her and the only exit, was Annalise. She stood there calmly, unworried, without giving off any impression that she had journeyed through an entire castle to get here. For some reason she didn’t dare to think on for long, the Doll figured she actually hadn’t. 

Then, she started to move. Still having that uncanny smile on her face, she started to slowly stalk towards her. The Doll found herself trembling, at last allowing panic to take over her senses. She was trapped like a rat and of course, her adversary couldn’t help but gleefully point it out.

“Thou hast nowhere to run, Mistress Evetta. This Castle is sealed and the ward bars the Hunter’s entrance. Submit. It is best for both of us if thou would come quietly and our destinies can be fulfilled.”

Even in her frightened state, the Doll wanted to release a wry laugh at that. Some destiny it was, to conceive an eldritch child for a vampiric aristocrat who had unholy designs for it. Even if she doubted Annalise was planning on gaining power the same way the Healing Church was, the woman was obviously out of her mind. Only the Great Ones knew what she would unleash being the one birthing the unborn child. 

“Why would thou run? As I said, I have no intent to harm or kill thee. I merely want to take this burden from thee. Let me take do what thou may not be able to.”

“May not be able to”. That last sentence awoke something in the Doll. Something powerful and all-consuming that she had not felt since discovering her own origins. It was a deep, burning anger and unlike before, she heartily welcomed it. 

All of a sudden, she found the strength to move again. Her trembling stopped. All fear slithered out of her body like a fleeing serpent. She stood up straight, head held up high as she faced the Queen with a defiant gaze.

An arcane tool was willed into her hand and without even looking, she slammed it into the ground. A spectacle of lightening burst loose in front of her. It consumed the entire floor, speeding its way towards the monarch in a wave of hungry electricity. Her adversary barely had the time to move out of the way and the edges of her dress were caught in the blast as she did, singed black beyond repair. 

When she recovered, the Vileblood Queen stared at her with shock and rage. The Doll simply stared back, no longer holding back the venom on her tongue. This was no longer a matter of just life or death. This woman was threatening her very sense of agency and politeness was now off the table.

“All this talk, endless braying by a stranger who thinks she has the right to my body. If I did not know better, I would be certain I heard Gehrman speaking...”

It was obvious Annalise didn’t miss the insult. If looks could kill, the Doll was sure she would have been nothing but ash right now. Still, she did not flinch, especially not when the ruler issued her next threat.

“We are the Queen of Cainhurst. We have the right to whatever We wish. Those who defy us do not live.”

All the younger woman did was sneer. “You are not my queen. If you wish to have this child inside me, you must cut it out of my corpse.”

With those words, she took the carving knife from her belt, only for the Queen to laugh. “Thou art a fool. Thou of all people should know that I cannot be killed.”

For once, the Doll simply smirked. “I am aware. Yet I can hurt you. I am content to settle for that.”

With those words, she ran the sharp blade over her own arms. Immediately, blood welled up from the wounds, the ruby drops sharply contrasting the pale skin. She hissed at the pain, but ignored it as she summoned a deadly pair of gloves onto her hands. She raised her now armored hands and with a single motion, the vengeful specters, fed by her blood, within were unleashed and descended upon her foe with hellish groans.

Hearing the Queen scream at the assault was almost like music to her ears, especially when she stared back at her with a look of sheer disbelief. “How… Impossible…”

The Doll smiled. “A gift from the good Hunter, from his own visit to Cainhurst. They are familiar to you, are they not?”

By now, all composure on the Queen’s end was gone as her voice morphed to a threatening growl. “Thou willt pay for that!”

Where that kind of threat would previous scare the younger woman, now it did little more than making her giggle. She wasn’t going down without a fight and, more importantly, a plan started to form in her head. As such, she simply flashed her another smirk and couldn’t resist a mocking bow. 

“Then catch me, Your Majesty.”

Then, without waiting for an answer, she called upon her quickening and ran, disappearing amidst of the many statues. Annalise quickly followed. Faster than she could blink, the Queen moved through the shadows, drawing upon the dark powers of her tainted blood to gain on her. As she did, she whispered curses and profanities, promising that her impudence would not go unpunished.

The Doll ignored these threats as she rapidly weaved a path through the statues to the entrance of the room. Occasionally, she would turn to unleash her specters from the executioner’s gloves. The attacks only seemed to anger her pursuer more and that was exactly what she was hoping for.

She stormed down the stairs, all the while making certain she wouldn’t trip. She could feel the Queen hot on her heels and didn’t stop until she was certain there was a good distance between them. She hid in the space behind the horse statues, quietly calling upon the Messenger's gift. Now masked as the little creatures from the nightmare, she waited.

Suddenly, the shadows near her stirred and within the blink of an eye, the Queen materilized near her. With fast, angry gestures, she approached the statue, looking behind it. The Doll held her breath, but it was obvious that Annalise was searching with a person in mind and she didn't notice the small group of Messengers mere inches away from her. She huffed at not finding her prey and turned around.

“Little fool. Thou thinkest thou canst hide from me forever?”

The Doll stayed quiet, but inwardly, she chuckled. She didn't need to hide that much longer. Not anymore.

With that, she let go of the Messenger's gift and returned to her own form, taking the mask from her belt. Swifter than she had ever moved, she approached the Queen and in one fell swoop, she charged her. Before the monarch fully realized what was going on, she pressed the mask against her face and fastened it, making her prisoner to it once more.

Annalise instantly understood what was going on. As the Doll let go of her, she shrieked furiously. She blindly clawed at both her and the mask, struggling to free herself and cursing her for getting the better of her. The younger woman didn't stay around to hear it, instead fleeing down the stairs to make it back to the roof. Still, she realized her adversary was now more furious than before. She thoroughly realized she had been outsmarted and that, the Doll figured, was perhaps a graver wound than any physical one she could have been dealt.

As she made it back onto the cold, windy roof, the younger woman suddenly felt a change in the atmosphere. The heaviness of the air lessened somewhat and the snowstorm seemed to settle for a brief moment. The ward was lifted, she knew, and with that, she knew she would soon be out of here.

Just as that thought went through her head, the screams of the Vileblood Queen suddenly drew closer. Despite her entrapment, she still moved fluidly and charged straight at her with the clear intention of still taking what she considered hers. While it limited her powers, the blindfolded mask clearly did little to limit her senses and as the Doll readied some arcane spells, she could only wonder how warped this woman's biology truly was.

Just as she did, however, another presence immediately made itself known. A large being manifested itself onto the rooftop, transforming the shadows all around them. The snowing stopped entirely at its angered roars and its mere form caused a fleshy film to spread across the tiles. 

The strange material started to run up the Doll’s legs as well, but she did not fear it. To her, it felt warm and inviting, like the embrace of a lover. Still, it was clear Annalise was not experiencing the same sensation. She screamed in agony, clawing to get it off her to no avail. Her pathetic shrieks were unpleasant even to the Doll and despite herself, she was moved with pity.

Annalise was not like the rotten zealots of the Healing Church. She had no intentions of dominating Yharnam or unleashing destruction upon humanity. She was a woman cursed, abandoned by all whom she loved and her mind worn away by absolute immortality. Then and there, the younger female truly had an inkling of her loneliness, her desperation and her sad need to find some destiny to stave off complete madness. Only a twisted mind could truly hate her and she found she was not capable of that.

“Leave her, good Hunter. She has not hurt me and there is no point to making her suffer. Her mind is too far gone to understand.”

A protesting rumble was heard behind her, but the Hunter nonetheless heeded her plea. The film receded and Annalise let out a long, tortured breath. The Doll could feel large, inhuman arms wrapping around her. She could sense unseen eyes stare at the undead Queen with apprehension and rage, their owner ready to finish the job should she try anything. 

The monarch simply stared back, face expressionless, before turning to her. “After all this, thou still chooseth to grant me mercy? Thou art an odd being, Mistress Evetta.”

The younger woman looked back, not showing much emotion herself. “I am not an Executioner, Your Majesty, nor do I intend to become one. As I said, I do not believe in destiny and frankly, I think neither should you.”

As the Hunter pulled her closer, she could hear the Queen bristle. “Then what would thee have me do? Dost thou think a shred of mercy makes me willing to give up on a goal I have worked towards for so long?”

Again, a growl sounded from deep within the Hunter’s eldritch body, indicating his utter willingness to smite the woman where she stood. The Doll wordlessly urged him to calm himself. Right now, she simply wanted to go home, yet not before giving her adversary some final advice and a warning.

“Seek the knowledge of the Great Ones, Annalise. They are sympathetic in nature and can release you from this tormented existence. Yet no do not take my mercy for weakness. I hold no more ill will towards you than you do to me, but should you come after me or the good Hunter again, I assure you, I will not be kind.”

She could feel the Queen tense at those harsh words, almost shocked to hear an actual threat against her person. Yet then, much to her surprise, she stood down and nodded. A laugh came forth from her lips, amused and sad at the same time, and the words she said somehow stung more than any insult she could have flung at her.

“Thou art more like Lady Maria than thou wantest to acknowledge...”

For a brief moment, the Doll glared. Even now, the Queen couldn’t help but remain stranded in the past. She was just like Gehrman, just as stuck in her own unattainable sense of destiny. She was nothing like Maria, safe for the fact she would fight for her own personhood same as anything else. The Queen of the Vilebloods truly knew nothing and certainly not about her.

Before she could think of saying anything else, her world suddenly started to turn black. A familiar sensation pulled on her, the strange dreamlike sensation she would go into when traveling without walking as the Hunter could. He was taking her away from here, she knew, and tired as she was, she did not struggle.

As she dreamed, she was on the hill again. It was still nighttime, with the faint kiss of summer resting upon the landscape with Yharnam in the distance. The young woman was still there, endless staring at the moon while attempting to make contact. 

Only now did the Doll fully realize just how serene she looked, how utterly relaxed despite being so focused. Her chestnut eyes reflected an unusual calmness, yet nothing indicated that she was in trance or otherwise not in control. She simply stood there, content with her task, not even flinching as the soft wind brushed against her face and hair. 

Then, just as before, the world seemed to shift. The coming of an eldritch being, heralded by all of nature going awry. The woman did not move as the earth responded to the strange invader, but as the Doll looked up at the sky, she could only freeze in horror. The moon… There was some kind of creature drawing forth from the moon… 

A pair of warm arms stirred her from the nightmarish vision. She opened her eyes and found her lover looking at her, incredibly concerned. He was back in his human form, repeatedly asking her if she wasn’t hurt. She didn’t respond to his frantic questions, instead looking around to determine their surroundings.

She had never been so glad to see the garden of Byrgenwerth. To see the small greenhouse, old cobblestone and the large, dark manor. The Hunter had indeed taken her home, far away from Cainhurst. Far away from Queen Annalise and her mad scheme to bear a child of blood.

A child…

Then and there, the reality of the situation hit her once more. The horrific reality that she was carrying an eldritch abomination inside her as they spoke. The thought was enough to send her entire composure crumbling and it seemed that now she was somewhere safe, her body gave up every pretense of trying to hold it together.

She roughly shoved the Hunter away from her and faced the ground as an overwhelming wave of sickness hit her once more. She was certain she was going to expel everything she had eaten at Cainhurst right there, but nothing came out. She lay there on all fours, dry heaving while covered with sweat and shivering madly. It seems like only now the full extent of her hours with the Vileblood Queen hit her and it was enough to temporarily render her unable to compose herself.

It took several moments for her to suppress her gag reflex and find the strength to stand again. Her lover helped her out as she did, offering her a cloth to wipe her mouth. Even though she could manage now, she was nonetheless glad for his attentiveness. Finding out what she did, she now needed it more than ever.

She took a deep breath and turned to her husband. He needed to know, as soon as possible. Especially considering how disconcerting the information was and the potential consequences it could have. Even if it was going to dash the pleasant evening the both of them were planning to have, she knew there was no good time to tell him and that delaying it would only make things worse.

The Doll opened her mouth, only for him to hush her and shake his head. He brought her close for another embrace, one that conveyed just how glad he was that she was here with him again. He took her hand, giving her a smile that felt comforting despite the obvious worry in his voice. 

“I know. I heard everything. Come. We should go inside and decide what to do.”


	4. The Fate of Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doll and Hunter decide their future and that of their child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice Christmas chapter with equal parts seriousness and equal parts fluff. Happy Holidays, everyone, and may all your dreams come true.

The inside of Byrgenwerth felt warm and inviting, but all of that was completely lost on the Doll. The beautifully decorated Yule tree didn’t enthrall her nor did the candles that gave the room a pleasant, comforting glow. Even her dogs, clearly happy to see her again, could not cheer her up. 

Her ordeal in Cainhurst had sucked the joy out of what should have been a pleasant evening. She felt drained and sick, dizzy as the adrenaline was still rushing through her veins. Preferably, she just wanted to curl up in a ball and pretend that none of this had ever happened, that her current “condition” was nothing more than figment of Annalise’s fractured imagination. 

The Hunter seemed well aware of her stressed state. He walked her over to the living room and set her on the couch. He started to patch up the wounds on her arms with some bandages, before making his way to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he came back with a fresh pot of tea and gently put a warm, steaming cup of into her hands. She looked up at him with clear bafflement at his initial attempt at comforting her, only to chuckle weakly at his apologetic look. 

“I will forgive you. You are British.”

Her attempt at a joke made him smile somewhat, but he soon turned serious again as he sat beside her. As she put the cup to her lips, she could see his hands were shaking. He clearly felt as uncomfortable as she was, but she admired him for going through with his next question anyway.

“So… Should we have this conversation now or do you want to rest first?”

The Doll thought for a moment. It was incredibly tempting to head to the bedroom, fall asleep and deny everything. Still, that wouldn’t solve anything and this was a not a matter for which they could afford a long period of inaction. 

“Let us discuss this now. I do not think it is wise to delay it.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. “So, you are expecting…”

She shrugged, taking another sip of tea. “Annalise seemed convinced of it. I would love to dismiss it as the crazy ramblings of an undead aristocrat, yet my term is a week overdue. So I am not so certain…”

Her lover was silent for a moment, before reaching out and putting a hand on her stomach. “You do feel different. But there are ways to make certain…”

All she could do at that was let out an annoyed sigh. She could understand her husband was trying to be supportive and in any other case, she would have appreciated it tremendously. Yet the details of their exact situation didn’t make it one that could be treated with kid gloves.

“And if I am, good Hunter, then what should we do?”

She realized she sounded a lot more venomous than she wanted to and she immediately regretted it when she saw him wince. Still, she stood by her point. Beating around the bush would not help in the slightest.

She took a shaky breath. “This child… It will not be a human babe. You told me what they are like, these children of humans and Great Ones. It will be…like those who beckoned the moon. Like Mergo… Like Arianna’s child…”

She could see his face fall. If before he had tried to remain positive, he now seemed to give up on it entirely. She could see his fists clench and he leaned back into the couch. 

“You’re right. If there is a child, I doubt it will be human. Seeing how I’m not and technically, neither are you.”

She nodded weakly. As unpleasant as it was to acknowledge it, she was glad he was at least being honest. Therefore, she figured she should be too.

“Then it doesn’t seem like we have much choice…”

She couldn’t bear to say the exact words. Still, it was what needed to be said. It was the only possible solution to their current circumstances that she could think of. Besides, the Hunter understood well enough.

“You want to visit Hemwick…” 

Even he couldn’t truly say it, it seemed. Yet that was indeed the gist of it. There were women in Hemwick, witches, which were said to have the terrible power to undo things like these. They used black magic, Yharnamites whispered, to crush unborn children’s souls under their millstones. Of course, that was likely just an old wife’s tale. After reading enough books about biology, she knew the approach to this kind of thing was a lot less magical and far more visceral. Not that this made it better.

For a moment, she swore she felt tears behind her eyes and she swallowed. “I do not _want_ to visit Hemwick. But I do not see any other option. Yharnam does not deserve another scourge. I do not want to die or lose my mind. And it seems cruel to give birth if the child is stillborn or only has a few agonizing hours to live.”

Part of her realized how selfish that might sound, but it was how she felt. She knew what the consequences of birthing this child could be. She had only been alive, truly alive, for a few years now. There was still so much she wanted to see and do and experience. She wanted to live and do so with her mind intact. She felt she deserved that right no matter her origins and that she was not obliged to sacrifice it for anyone. Much less a child that could damn the world.

Then and there, her mind trailed back to the incident a month ago. When Adella and her faction of the Church had attacked Byrgenwerth. She had been rambling about some sort of catastrophe that required her and the Hunter to be killed. Something that would damn the Church.

Back then, she had desperately wanted to believe it were just the crazy musings of an insane Blood Saint. Yet now, she could not help but wonder if there was truth behind it. If perhaps the terrible thing she had seen was the conception, and likely birth, of their offspring…

The Doll spoke before she could stop herself. “Do you think Adella foresaw this? That she was trying to prevent us…procreating?”

The good Hunter flinched at her suggestion. So far, he hadn’t talked much and she could tell he was at a loss for words. Still, it was clear he didn’t like the current situation any more than she did.

She jumped when she felt him take her hand in his. The gesture was meant to calm her, but it only made her feel worse. Had their circumstances been different, she would have embraced having his child. Even if it wasn’t an explicit wish of hers to be a mother, she and her husband loved each other enough to manage an addition to the family. Unfortunately, things just weren’t that simple. 

She turned towards her lover, managing a weak smile and squeezing his hand. “This is not exactly how I imagined Christmas Eve to turn out...” 

He returned the expression, before reaching for his own cup of tea. “Truth be told, I never thought I’d have this conversation at all. I grew up with such bad health that our family’s physician confidently stated I wouldn’t live to thirty. Getting married or fathering children was never a realistic prospect back then…”

All the Doll could do was nod silently. Even now, she found it hard to imagine that the good Hunter was once like that. Weak and sickly, a strong mind trapped in a fragile body. Perhaps, she sometimes wondered, that was what brought them together. A lack of agency combined with a desire for more. It just seemed so strange that they were equally powerless on the other end of the spectrum as well.

The silence was broken by him placing his cup back on the table, before taking hers and placing it next to it. He then leaned over, kissing her on the forehead. He once again took her hands. The smile he gave her was fraught with sorrow, but she could tell it was genuine and so were his words.

“My priority is your wellbeing, Evetta. It has always been. If you think it best that the child is not born, I will stand by that.”

It should have made her happy to hear him say that and to some extent, it did. It was good to hear that he loved her, that he didn’t want to lose her. Still, she couldn’t help but feel he had some reservations, though she couldn’t exactly put her finger on what it was. 

She needed to know. Not because she was necessary willing to change her mind. While she valued her husband’s opinion immensely, there were limits and even godlike beings were fallible. Still, she wanted to know his full feelings on the matter, in the same way she was always forthcoming with hers. They were nothing if not honest with each other.

“Good Hunter, it does not sound like you think it is the best course of action.”

Clearly, she had him there. He let go off her hands, but kept his eyes on her. For a moment, he seemed in thought, before finally answering her.

“Frankly, I do not know what is. Perhaps it’s best if this child is not born, but I am afraid of the possible consequences of removing the child as well. These women are no doctors and for all we know, the procedure might physically affect you as well. That and there’s something that’s…bothering me.”

She cocked her head quizzically. “And what may that be?”

Seemingly glad to have a say, he took a deep breath and started. “The babe… I am quite certain it was conceived a month ago, on the night the Healing Church invaded Byrgenwerth. I may be wrong, of course, but I recall that night we were rather…lax about taking precautions. Still, even if it was later than that, there are things that don’t add up. You too remember the prophecy here at Byrgenwerth, right?”

She nodded. “”When the red moon hangs low, the line between man and beast is blurred. And when the Great Ones descend, a womb will be blessed with child”. Is that not what happened during your Hunt, when we met?”

“Yes. And it has happened before, according to Pthumerian history. Yet now, there is no red moon or Great Ones descending. Beings like us, we would have known if either happened. What’s more, I have seen the result of these eldritch unions. These pregnancies take place over the span of a night. Yet what’s inside you seems too underdeveloped for me to sense properly, even after a day at the least and a month at the most.”

The Doll froze halfway into the motion of reaching for her drink and looked at him. He was right, she realized. She too was knowledgeable about the prophecies and research surrounding the Healing Church and Byrgenwerth. Previous births of Great One hybrids had adhered to these supposed rules. So why didn’t things add up now?

“If that is true, good Hunter, then there are three possibilities. I am either not expecting, the child inside me is already dead or it is alive but not imbued with the Old Blood. Is that what you’re saying?” 

Much to her surprise, her husband shook her head. “No. I think you are pregnant with a very much living child of blood. What I _am_ saying is that we might not be dealing with…”regular” circumstances, for lack of a better word.”

By now, the Doll couldn’t help but be intrigued. While she still didn’t think having this baby was the right decision, it was clear her husband was onto something. Her curiosity was piqued and now, she wanted to know what that bright mind of his was heading towards. 

“Then tell me, good Hunter. What do you think makes our situation so different?”

The Hunter took a deep breath. “Well, why _are_ the children of a Great One and human union stillborn or barely viable? I cannot say for certain, but I think it’s our different physiologies. The Great Ones are something so alien that it is not compatible with the human form. The same may go for our reproductive traits. We cannot properly process the other’s genetic material into offspring and thus, the body rejects it, resulting in unviable progeny.” 

The Doll nodded quietly. What he said sounded right. She too studied genetics eagerly, devouring the published works of Charles Darwin, Gregor Mendel and of the old Greek philosophers. Those supported the theory as well; in nature, hybrids between different species were nigh impossible and in the majority of successful cases, the offspring was infertile or had other defects. Still, what made him think their children were not bound to those natural laws?

“Correct, but you are not telling me anything I do not already know. So why do you think our circumstances are not “regular”?”

By now, the Hunter was smiling. “As I said before, these conditions apply for a Great One and human coupling. You, despite outwards appearances, are not human. If anything, due to my blood in your veins, you are much closer to Kin. It’s likely why you can see things. Why looking at my true form can’t drive you mad. And that may explain why your child, _our_ child, is not yet born. Your body doesn’t acknowledge the genetic material of Great Ones as foreign and therefore, doesn’t try to expel it.”

The Doll gave him a shocked look. She hadn’t thought about things this way. How could she? She was so used to life as a human being by now that it rarely occurred to her that she wasn’t truly one. Still, if the Hunter was right, that changed the parameters of their position greatly. 

“So, what you are implying is that us reproducing is closer to two Great Ones reproducing than a Great One and a human.”

He nodded. “Exactly. I’m _theorizing_ , with great emphasis on that word, that the reason this child is still in your womb, still developing, is because it is not truly a hybrid, or at least not to the extent of, say, Mergo. As such, it may be able to be properly birthed, without any ill effects for you or this plane of existence.” 

That suggestion, even if it was just a theory, made her heart leap. So there was hope. For Yharnam, for her… There was a chance she could have this child, _their_ child, safely. 

“Good Hunter, if that is true… Then perhaps I do not have to go to Hemwick.”

Her lover nodded and she smiled. She smiled for perhaps the first time the entire night. She sat up and looked at her husband, taking a deep breath.

“Let us see how this goes. See if it is safe. If not, we can always change our mind, right?”

Her husband chuckled. “Yes. Like I said, your wellbeing comes first. I love you and I want you to be happy. Never forget that.”

He leaned in to kiss her and she didn’t think to stop him. It felt good to hear him say that and to have him be so affectionate with her. Even now, being alive for quite some time, it felt indescribably wonderful to be this cherished. That, she guessed, was why she fell in love with him. He respected her and treated her like she mattered.

The kiss wasn’t a short one, but she was still disappointed when he pulled back. He got off the couch and took her hand, pulling her up as well. He gestured to the kitchen, smiling as she did.

“Come on, let’s try and make something of the rest of the evening. It is Christmas, after all.”

The Doll smiled back. As strange as it seemed, just celebrating Christmas sounded like a wonderful idea about now. She needed something to cheer her up after her ordeal and frankly, an evening in front of the Yule tree, eating food and singing some carols in the company of their pets sounded wonderful.

She was indeed proven right. The rest of the evening was pleasant and peaceful. She and the Hunter set about cooking a Christmas dinner with the foodstuff they got from the market. It was a relatively simple meal and they were not the world’s greatest cooks, but frankly, it tasted a lot better to her than any of the food she’d eaten at Cainhurst. It helped that the company was infinitely better too.

The gift exchange was as successful as she had hoped. She was somewhat relieved to find the Hunter had indeed checked at Fiona’s shop as he was looking for her and had brought the cat intended for him home. He was very pleased with it, admiring the animal’s nature and looks, stating it’d soon even look better with proper care. She felt a little bit of pride when he confirmed she was indeed correct on the breed, only to laugh and roll her eyes when he chose to name it Epicurus, after a Greek philosopher just like he’d done with the others. 

It turned out he had thought in a similar direction for her gift as well. She was more than a little surprised when he presented her with one of the most peculiar dogs she had ever seen. It was rather small, with a large head and an elongated body. He explained to her that it was a breed called a badger dog from Germany and that its strange shape helped it hunt burrowing creatures. While she doubted it would perform that function here, she liked the animal’s curious personality well enough and, preferring simpler names than her husband, decided to name it Faust, after the German play.

She had considerably calmed down again by the time they were in front of the fireplace again, eating some more delicacies. Though the eggnog remained untouched due to the day’s discoveries, she quite enjoyed the Christmas crackers, fruits, nuts and other sweets. She contently leaned against her lover as they poured over some books he had brought, relaxing together as they discussed the content passionately as they always did.

“It is bizarre that Mr. Collins presses on, even though Elizabeth explicitly told him she is not interested.”

Her husband chuckled. “It’s quite common in British courtship, actually. A woman may turn her suitor down a few times. People will comment her for being modest if she does.”

The Doll made a face. “It seems rather silly, Good Hunter. What if the man takes her rejection at face value and never tries again? Or worse, if the woman is genuine in her disinterest? No one might believe her.”

Seemingly beset by memories, he gave her a cynical grin. “Trust me when I say that occasionally happens. And depending on how much is at stake for the family, they will try to spin it into whatever answer they please.”

She let out a sigh in response, turning back to the pages. “British courtship seems so…needlessly complicated. How do they even navigate themselves towards a wedding at all?”

“Well, that’s where the family comes in again. Marriage, especially among richer folk, is not so much a matter of love as it is a matter of business. Family fortunes are openly discussed as matches are made and the parents have a huge say in whether the marriage happens at all. After all, in British law, once a woman gets married, all possessions legally become her husband’s and he represents them both in law for some inane reason, so they want to make sure she chooses well.”

The Doll raised an eyebrow at that. Perhaps when she was still an actual doll desperate to be loved, the idea of being considered one person before the law might have sounded romantic to her. Now, it sounded like a poor deal on the woman’s part. Maybe being alive had made her more selfish, but she liked having her own things and her own money, her own activities separate from her lover. Giving that up for holy matrimony didn’t sound appealing at all.

“No offense to you, good Hunter, but then I feel quite fortunate I was not born a British woman.”

The Hunter laughed. “None taken. A society of unspoken rules is not an easy place to live. Especially for those not particularly socially gifted or questioning of the established order, as I can attest to myself.”

“No wonder that Elizabeth then seems so out of place. She wants to marry for love. Hers is a position not tolerated, or at least unorthodox, in British society.”

“Exactly. Which is probably another reason why Mr. Collins doesn’t believe her when she refuses him. He thinks the offer he makes her is a truly good one.” 

She huffed. “Still, Mr. Collins sounds like a buffoon. I understand that he may not love Elizabeth, but he could at the very least talk to her like a human being he is to live with. He sounds no different than how one would when contemplating the purchase of a house. She deserves more respect than this. The same goes for Mr. Darcy’s first proposal too.”

A smirk was her answer. “You’re not quite fond of it either?”

She responded with a shake of the head. “He sounds hypocritical. He claims he will speak from the heart, but is kept by his pride from fully doing so. His true feelings are hampered by pragmatism. As painful as it is, it would be far more honest if he chose either one and let go of his crippling pride.”

By now, the Hunter was chuckling and she gave him an amused look. “What’s so funny?”

He smiled. “It is entertaining to hear you pass judgment on the proposals of others.”

Her lips curled into a smile of her own at that. It was probably rather entertaining, considering that she had nothing to compare proposals with. She herself was not officially married. Most of her female friends were shop owners, teachers and scientists, who were all staving off finding a mate and wedlock for their own reasons. She had no personal experience with this and yet, she was providing blunt commentary. Still, that didn’t stop her from playfully retorting.

“Well, one does not have cook food to know when it tastes bad, does it?”

Her lover laughed. “Fair point. Though to be fair, we might be long overdue when it comes to matters like these, aren’t we?”

The Doll fell silent for a moment when he said that. The comment struck her as odd. She never took it as an offense that they were not officially married. He was a faithful mate and as dearly as she loved the Hunter, it had never been a primary desire of hers. She was far too busy exploring her new existence and developing personality to bother with such trivial things. Besides, it was not actually a possibility.

“Well, I recall we had good reason not to. I doubt the Healing Church, or whatever remains of it, would want to wed us. Frankly, I do not like the idea much myself after enjoying their hospitality.”

He nodded, remembering the incident several years ago all too well. “I know, but we don’t need to do so in Yharnam. Remember Eileen’s letter? She said she now lives in a quiet hamlet a few miles from here. The Healing Church hasn’t touched it. We could go there for a few days, if we wanted to.” 

Almost immediately, the Doll perked up at that idea. The both of them hadn’t seen Eileen in a good while. They had recently not been able to venture outside of Yharnam either. There was always work to be done and they had spent the last week or so simply preparing for Christmas. Spending some time away sounded good to her, though the angle of the conversation still seemed strange to her. 

“It sounds lovely, Good Hunter, but I do not see why you would bring this up now.”

He coughed, seeming somewhat tense. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. We have been living like this for a long time and it might be nice to at least make it official, even if it doesn’t change anything. And now we may be parents soon, I don’t see why not.”

“Parents”.

That was the first time either of them used that word. It felt strange. She had not thought about the baby inside her this way yet. She was going to be its mother. The person who would raise it, alongside the Hunter. Their child, born from the union of their bodies. They were going to be a family, but even now, that notion seemed too surreal…

She had barely noticed that he had risen from the couch and walked away. She simply remained where she was, petting the animals that lay all around them. The repetitive motions suited her, allowing her mind to wander about potential things to come. 

It was only when he returned that she was jerked from her thoughts. She gasped when he reached out and took her hand. He placed something cold and metallic in it, with a distinct round shape. 

When she could finally pull her hand back, she noticed it was a ring. It was made of finely crafted silver, with beautiful patterns carved into the metal. Set in this shining material was a brilliant, transparent gemstone. She had to admit it was an immensely beautiful object, but she wondered why the Hunter saw fit to give it to her. She gave him a questioning look and he smiled.

“This is a Ring of Betrothal. In the age of the Great Ones, it was given to one slated to bear a special child. I found it in the Chalice Dungeons years ago and held on it to it for reasons I didn’t quite know myself back then… I think you are a far more fitting owner for it.”

His words were awkward, but then and there, she knew this was not a simple gift on his part. Her lover was not one to waste words and she had the feeling he didn’t just tell her what the ring was as simple fact. He rarely did thing without meaning and right now, she could only imagine he intended one thing.

She stared at him, eyes wide. “Good Hunter, are you truly....”

He nodded, his expression halfway between fear and tentative happiness. “I am… Though forgive me that I can’t quite manage the eloquent words as written by Jane Austen. All I can say is that I love you and that I want to make you happy. I always did.”

By now, the Doll already knew the emotion that suddenly coursed through her body and caused tears to form behind her eyes. Experiencing joy was no longer rare for her, but it was still something she cherished immensely. She treasured the ability to simply _feel_ and the same went for the person who enabled her to do so.

She loved the Hunter, possibly more than any other being in the world. How could she not? This man, who had gone through so much effort for a mere doll. Who had helped her survive and develop in a world she was not supposed to even see. Who had not wanted her to be a facsimile of another woman, like Gehrman, but valued her for the companion she was. 

By now, she could tell that nerves were getting the better of him by the tremble settling in his voice. “So…will you have me?”

Something about his demeanor mad her want to laugh. Even now, after all this time, he was nervous about this kind of thing. One of the greatest minds she knew, losing all confidence when it came to matters of the heart. He truly was an endearing fool at times. Her answer should be obvious. She kissed him, showing him the brightest smile she could conjure.

“I do, though I do not understand if you have ever thought otherwise.”

His face lit up at that declaration and she nearly burst out laughing at his sheepish reply. “Well, that’s good then...”

By the time the both of them finally tired of Christmas Eve and retreated to bed, the Doll realized she was oddly relaxed. She gratefully sunk into the soft sheets, welcoming the fatigue washing over her. She didn’t protest as the Hunter curled up against her and watched happily how some of their pets settled in on the large bed as well. 

The horrors at Cainhurst of the day had faded a little. While possible retaliation was still at the back of her mind, she was certain the Vilebloods would not try for a long time. She had proven herself more than a match for the undead Queen, able to outsmart and outplay her, and that achievement filled her with no small sense of pride.

The same went for her fear of the unborn child inside her. While she was still not certain about its future, she now dared to think about it coming into the world and that, perhaps, this was not a bad thing. For now, she would simply take it one day at the time and not allow her decisions to be guided by the worst possible assumption. That was the best for her and the babe.

With that resolve, feeling her lover’s skin against hers, she allowed herself to drift off. Today was a long trying day and she needed her rest. The First Day of Christmas was bound to be exciting as well, after all.

The hill once again appeared in her dreams that night, but the Doll’s sense of foreboding was absent this time. Unlike before, the darkness didn’t bother her and neither did the sight of Yharnam in the distance. A strange sense of security had come over her and she felt she could not possibly be afraid.

Instead, she quietly studied the features of the woman standing beside her, once again noticing that there were odd similarities in both their appearances. The hair and skin, as well as the straight nose. Before, these uncanny resemblances had frightened her, but slowly she started to become intrigued by them, curious as to their meaning.

When the world shifted and the creature crawled out of the moon, she did not flinch. Now, she forced herself to watch. She needed to see this being. She wanted to see the true face of what she had previously considered a nightmare.

The creature’s form was grotesque and unlike anything upon this earth, but that did not bother her. It was a Great One, she knew, and those did no adhere to conventional laws of attractiveness. It was just strange, but as it worked its way through the portal, nothing about its appearance evoked a sense of intentional malevolence. In truth, it looked no scarier to her than her husband’s true form did. 

She kept her gaze on it, wondering if the creature or woman could even detect her. She doubted it, for as whatever passed for the Great One’s eyes met hers, it felt like it looked right through her. If anything, its attention was directed towards the other woman and it doubled its efforts to crawl through the portal in a seemingly excited manner. 

Then, just like that, the dream changed. The familiar image in front of her dissipated. The hill, the woman and the Great One were gone and she found herself dancing through the shreds of other images. A small church she did not recognize. A communion that healed a Beast. A walk through the forest with her dogs. An empty throne. Two blond boys, playing in a field of sunflowers. 

As the imagery weaved its patterns through the night, the Doll did not once stir. There was no dread or despair, no ominous sights to draw her back to the land of the living. All there was for her was the blessed comfort of sleep and for the first time in a month, she slept peacefully.


	5. Celestial Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunter and Doll work towards the birth of their eldritch offspring.

“You don’t look very nervous.”

The Doll smiled at her friend. Eileen was dressed in simple formal robes, regarding her with apparent amusement. She shared it, if only because the question seemed so silly to her. She could feel Fiona tug on the skirt of the white dress she was wearing, making a last-minute adjustment. She ignored it, focusing on the older woman and her odd statements.

“Are brides supposed to be nervous, Eileen?”

Eileen shrugged. “Well, most are. New life, new responsibilities, that sort of thing. Though that isn’t really the case for you, having lived together and already being pregnant. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

The Doll heard Fiona chuckle. “Well, that’s Evetta for you, Miss Eileen. Never takes the conventional route if she can help it.” 

Both of her friends laughed and she took a moment to stare at the beautiful stained glass window of the old church she was in. It was a simple building, much smaller than the Cathedral of the Healing Church and nowhere near its splendor. Still, there was something undeniably idyllic about it and it is why she and the Hunter had chosen it as the location of their wedding.

It was going to be a small affair. The guests were few; besides Eileen, who was granted permission to conduct the ceremony as the village priest refused to wed unbelievers, they had invited Djura, Fiona and their friends amongst Yharnam’s scientific community. They had asked the local inn to provide the food, their attire was a gift from Fiona and they had taken any needed flowers from the meadows surrounding the hamlet. It was kept simple and it suited her fine.

Her hand found its way to her stomach and closed her eyes for a minute. She focused on the little guest inside. It was still developing properly, no faster than a normal human baby would. It was a good sign and even today, amidst all the business, she cherished it.

As she looked back up, she saw Eileen watch her intently. She turned her eyes down to her belly and gave her a questioning expression. She quietly acknowledged the nonverbal sign and turned to Fiona as she got up and finished the adjustment. 

“Fiona, can you go check on the groom to be and Djura for me? I think we are ready and I would like to know how they are progressing.”

Her friend grinned. “Sure thing. Knowing Djura, he is currently boring your future husband with the importance of Slavic wedding traditions. I’ll go save him.”

She walked towards the door of the small side room they were in and winked at them. “Be right back.”

The moment the door fell closed behind her, the Doll turned to Eileen. She too reached out to her stomach, feeling it experimentally. She nodded meaningfully.

“You aren’t showing yet.”

The younger female nodded. “I may not for another two to three months. And two more months after that, the self-imposed exile likely commences.”

The old crow frowned. “That seems like an awfully lonely way to spend your pregnancy.”

The Doll moved a little closer and her voice dropped to a whisper. “It seems like the best way. Outside of you, Djura and our physician Vlad who is a former Hunter himself, no one knows about the exact nature of this pregnancy. And even so, none of those aware of it know what to expect. I don’t want any people close to me to go mad with a truth they cannot understand or worse, having the Healing Church remnants catch wind of this. And the less Cainhurst knows, the better.”

She got a nod in return. “Fair point. Just know that if anything goes wrong, you can call on me. I am not a doctor or scholar, but an old woman is not without her smarts. You never know.”

That was all she needed to smile. “I will remember it. And thank you, Eileen.”

Hardly had she finished her sentence or the door creaked open again. Fiona’s red mess of curls popped through the crack and she looked at the two of them beaming. She then hurried through, rushing up to the Doll and fixing her veil.

“We can go. They are ready.”

With those words, she moved up beside her. Eileen put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her shoulder as to reassure her. She grinned and the younger woman noticed how much younger it made her look.

“I’ll run up ahead. Do make sure to stun him when you come in.” 

The Doll raised her head up high. She would certainly do that. Fiona had fiercely kept her lover from even looking upon her gown, determined to keep it a surprise until the wedding. Seeing how flattering the garment was, she knew it would be and quite so. A giggle escaped her lips at the thought of the Hunter’s slack-jawed face. She wouldn’t deny herself that little bit of fun. She nodded to both her friends, picking up her flowers.

“That must not be too hard. Come on then. Let us humor the traditions of old.”

The wedding ceremony itself was a quiet, though not entirely dignified event. The good Hunter was particularly taken with her outfit and indeed, after finding the will to close his mouth, he told her she looked absolutely stunning. He then followed it up with a good-natured joke it would look better off her, which earned him a laugh from her and the threat of a whack over the head from Eileen who happened to hear. 

The old Huntress also didn’t hesitate to insert some acerbic wit remarks into the vows as well, making it hard to for them, and everyone else, to keep a straight face. Favorite topics were the blood and guts that were their professions, veiled references to their bizarre origins and expressing annoyance at their fascination with beasts both eldritch and domestic. In the end, however, she kept it short and sweet and allowed them to seal their union with a passionate kiss.

The rest of the wedding was a pleasant, relaxed affair. There was food and drink in abundance at the inn and it was wonderful to just sit there and enjoy the company of their friends. They all entertained one another with the many colorful stories of their time in Yharnam, plans for the future and above all, wished each other that their camaraderie would last a lifetime. The Doll heartily agreed with all of it, immensely grateful that they were all here to turn this into a wonderful day for her and the Hunter.

Things quickly fell back into the normal routine once they returned to Yharnam. Despite the insistence of her overly concerned husband, she refused to simply sit down and wait out the pregnancy. She wasn’t a person who liked being idle and as such, she was determined to occupy her time with the work she loved until she was physically no longer able to.

Thus, she spent the next few months being quite active. Apart from already setting up the majority the nursery with her lover’s help, she continued her work on various illustrations and schematics. She visited her friends and conducted experiments with samples she collected. She even joined the Hunter in his expeditions in the Pthumerian tombs. As influential as this pregnancy would likely be on her life, she refused to put everything on hold and while she was more careful and occasionally still nauseous, she also wanted to enjoy this period for all she could.

It was around the forth month of her pregnancy that she first started showing. It started out small. She noticed she had gained a little weight and her belly started to protrude somewhat. Her feet were swollen and as the cramps and sickness faded, she found herself attracted to specific types of food. Pickled foods became a favorite, as did lemons, and she made sure to always have plenty in stock once these cravings reared their ugly head.

As the child finally started gaining something of a physical presence, she noticed its presence also grew in her mind. She would dream a lot more, treated to rapturous visions of the cosmos and worlds she had never before seen. Sometimes, she would even dream of what she thought to be the child inside her, though she sadly never saw anything concrete. A normal symptom, her husband reassured her, one he had determined to be common among eldritch pregnancies. Nevertheless, he insisted she’d tell him if she would detect anything she thought was abnormal.

The Doll had ensured him she would, but the truth was that she quite enjoyed the dreams. They were often soothing, pleasant reminders of a world beyond. If anything, they helped her bond with her child and, in turn, bond with her partner.

The Hunter was growing particularly caring as the pregnancy progressed. The scientist in him seemed eager to record everything. He would often hover around her, much to her amusement and annoyance, writing down every little detail for the purpose of knowledge. On the other hand, he very much acted like her husband and his scientific curiosity was interspersed with the worry of a lover. 

He would often run around trying to make certain she was comfortable or simply wanted to spend time with her. It was almost like the old days as he considered it his personal responsibility to see that she ate, drank and rested enough. When she was certain the baby was moving for the first time, he had dropped everything and rushed over to put his cheek to her belly, eager to feel it too. 

She quite appreciated his dedication and the fact he wasn’t put off by her changing body. In fact, she got the feeling he found her physical state rather appealing. She happily welcomed his advances, not feeling as sick and tired any more as she did in the early stage of her pregnancy. Her own desire seemed to have increased too during this period and she decided to embrace it before the last, most troublesome period would inevitably commence.

This time was not only marked by the little being growing inside of her. Yharnam kept changing too. A new Vicar, apparently a former Church Hunter himself, had apparently been appointed to what remained of the Healing Church and the institution that had founded the city was rapidly changing.

This man, Vicar Nicodemus, was not so much out to consolidate power as he was out to cause major reforms. He openly acknowledged the atrocities of his predecessors and condemned them. To prove his point, he outlawed several of their practices and enforced more humane stipulations with heavy punishment to those who defied them. Additionally, he encouraged collaboration with scientists not affiliated with the Church, so any future ventures into eldritch knowledge might be conducted responsibly. His radical mindset put him at odds with the remaining factions of the Old Church, but was quickly winning the hearts and minds of the people after so much suffering. 

The Vicar didn’t stop with pleas for tolerance and communions to heal the remaining beasts either. The Doll was rather surprised when she found a pardon for her and the Hunter left at the edge of Byrgenwerth, absolving them of being branded heretics by the Church. It was signed by Nicodemus himself and while she knew only time would tell how meaningful it was, she appreciated the gesture. Expecting a child, she was glad that showing herself in public might become a lot safer in the future.

Even so, when the pregnancy could no longer be hidden under a layer of thick cloth, she still decided to seclude herself from the city for the remainder of the time. To Fiona and her uninformed friends, she claimed she would be out of town to visit Eileen for several months. It was an excuse that none of them questioned and it allowed her to observe the situation in peace, enabling her to also prevent them from seeing the child should everything go sideways.

It turned out that decision wasn’t so much for the wellbeing of her friends as her own. The final stretch of her pregnancy was physically demanding. Her once flat stomach was now heavily distorted into a large round shape and its weight made moving very cumbersome. Her feet were constantly swollen and she was always tired. Short walks through the forest with her dogs or sitting over an illustration were swiftly becoming a test of endurance, to the point she didn’t even want to imagine a hike to the town center. 

At that point, she finally decided to listen to her husband and took to less strenuous activities. A lot of her days were focused on getting plenty of sleep, reading the many books he brought her and learning the odd little craft that was knitting. When it was not the Hunter keeping her company, she was usually surrounded by their pets. Little Faust in particular proved loyal and she liked to think the friendly curiosity her dogs and cats displayed at her growing stomach was a good sign for what was within.

She and the Hunter were also starting to carefully contemplate names for their unborn child. As the months had passed and no unusual symptoms had occurred, they dared to entertain the thought that the baby would be a permanent addition. They had done excessive research into names, both local and from the Hunter’s home country. By now, they had settled on a few for boys and girls and with the last details of the nursery in place, she was ready for the baby to arrive. At least, as much as she could be.

The Doll wasn’t naïve when it came to the exact science of childbirth. She had educated herself well and she knew it was going to be a bloody, painful affair. Even though she had been healthy so far and she had carried the baby without complications, there were still many things that could go wrong. It was why she insisted on a doctor nearby, one that could quickly make its way to Byrgenwerth if needed. Vlad, a former Hunter who could no longer dream, fit that description and with his knowledge of the eldritch truth, she knew she had taken all the possible precautions she could. 

The morning marking the end of her ninth month started out normal. The Doll was having a wonderful day. Eileen had snuck into the city to come visit her and Djura had made his way over from Old Yharnam as well. It was a sunny autumn day with relatively mild weather and all of them set outside, discussing recent rumors from Yharnam while enjoying some drinks and the pastries Eileen had brought.

“And when Queen Annalise refused to reply to Nikodemus’s call for negotiations, he sent an emissary. That one didn’t return, so he sent the reformed Executioners instead.”

The Hunter frowned. “He wanted to wipe them out too?”

Djura shook his head. “Oh no, they don’t do that anymore. The Executioners are now more concerned with applying Church law and settling disputes within and with other parties. They were sent to extract their emissary, nothing more.” 

Eileen took a bite out of a blueberry pastry. “Still, not exactly subtle.”

The old Hunter grinned. “The Vilebloods thought the same. They hunkered down and the whole thing turned into a siege.”

The Doll listened quietly. Ever since her time as Queen Annalise’s involuntary guest, she hadn’t heard anything of the Vilebloods and she hadn’t bothered to inquire. Still, as Djura had brought it up as the most sought after story currently unfolding in Yharnam, she couldn’t help but want an update.

“What happened next?”

Djura said back, sipping some coffee. “Well, eventually the Executioners broke through. They pinned down the first Vileblood they found and asked for the whereabouts of their emissary. The lass told them in very colorful terms they could put their Logarius wheels up an unmentionable orifice, saying it was just retaliation and then accused them of kidnapping their Queen.”

The good Hunter chuckled. “Abducting an undead vampire? How did the Church pull that off?”

Eileen shared the amusement. “They got either incredibly good or incredibly lucky then.”

Both of them laughed and the Doll joined them, only for Djura to shake his head. “That’s the thing. They didn’t. Nicodemus swore on his life and even allowed the Vilebloods to search all their establishments. Nothing turned up.”

Almost immediately, the Doll saw her husband frown. “So…where is she then?”

The former Powderkeg shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems like she disappeared.”

The Doll lowered the cup of tea she was sipping and stared at her friend. “Disappeared”. That word hit her like a ton of bricks. How on earth could someone as prominent as the Queen of the Vilebloods just vanish? 

She thought back to the last time she saw her, trapped in her helmet on the roof of Castle Cainhurst. How much sadness had seeped through the cracks of that cruel façade. How lost, mad and desperate she had seemed. Had she perhaps heeded the advice she had given her? Had she decided it was better to remove herself from Cainhurst’s corrupted environment? 

She shrugged, deciding to let the matter rest. A missing Vileblood was a harmless Vileblood, as far as she was concerned. She wouldn’t know for sure, not until or if ever the Vileblood Queen appeared once more. Besides, she had better things to worry about.

Djura concluded his story. “So anyway, there is currently this small group of Hunters from both sides collaborating to search for her on Nikodemus’s orders. Vilebloods and Executioners working together. Now that’s something I never thought I’d witness…”

Eileen chuckled, raising her coffee mug as if it were a flagon. “And then you think you’ve seen everything as a Hunter. Oh well, her loss is our gain. Here’s to a better future for Yharnam. May we remain free of the scourge for a long time.”

In response to the older woman’s gesture, the Doll raised her cup as well. As she did and shifted in her chair, however, she could feel a familiar pressure in her bowels. An obnoxious cramp that indicated a common annoyance of the living body. She sighed. As the baby inside her grew and put pressure on her innards, the need to relief herself grew far more frequent.

Annoyed but not planning to delay the inevitable, she got up and excused herself. “It seems like nature is calling. I will be back in a moment.”

Her friends and husband simply nodded, too engaged in conversation to truly notice her leaving their company. She entered the building, making her way to the privy. Her swollen feet hurt with every step and she grumbled as she moved forward, hoping to quickly get this over with so she could sit again.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a violent cramp wracked her body. A stinging pain spread throughout her stomach, almost as if someone had plunged a knife into her stomach and twisted it. It was so intense and overwhelming that her legs gave out and she barely held out her arms in time to prevent her from falling forward onto her stomach.

As she lay there on the carpet, on her knees and propping herself up on her hands, the pain only got worse. It clouded her thoughts, but even as she bit back to urge to scream, there was some part of her mind that could think straight. She brought one of her hands down to her nether regions and noticed the pants she was wearing were soaking wet. 

Then and there, her eyes went wide. What she felt was not an embarrassing little accident. She knew what was happening. 

A sense of panic rushed over her. Knowing this was the worst possible situation to deliver, instinct took over and caused her to act. Immediately, she called out to the good Hunter at the top of her lungs, hoping desperately that he could hear her.

Thankfully, it turned out nothing was wrong with her husband’s hearing. Within seconds, he came charging into the building. He only needed to take one look at her to realize what was going on. He rushed over to her, trying to help her up before screaming for their friends.

“Eileen! Djura! Evetta’s gone into labor! I need your help!”

As he called for help, she felt how he easily lifted her off the floor and brought her over to their bedroom. Whether he was using his strength as a Great One or his body was overcome with adrenaline, she didn’t know, but before she knew it she was safely on the bed. He shooed away their pets, before getting back at her side. She could read the alarm in his face, which turned to some relief as Eileen entered the room. She cut off the question he was about to ask as she walked over.

“I told Djura to run and get Vlad. They should be here in ten minutes.”

She turned to the Doll, putting a hand on her forehead. “Well, you picked a lovely time, dear.”

Had she not been in a world of hurt, the younger female would have thought to respond sarcastically. She clutched at her belly, clawing at the skin. The contractions were growing worse by the second and she felt like the lower half of her body was being ripped apart.

It was clear the Hunter wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with the situation either. He did his best to try and calm her, but in her state she found it more annoying than comforting. She was in too much agony to truly understand that she was saying, though Eileen seemed far too amused when she apparently mentioned an activity involving her husband’s genitals and a threaded cane. 

No words could ever describe her relief when Djura finally came into the room with Vlad. To his credit, the man wasted no time. He ran over with his instruments and looked her over.

“Hello Evetta. The baby wants to come out?”

She nodded, gritting her teeth. “It seems so… How much longer?”

Vlad smiled. “It depends. Some births happen within minutes, others can last hours.”

Even in her state, the Doll managed to give her doctor a displeased look. She was already feeling overwhelmed and on the edge of losing it. The idea that this situation might continue to persist for several more hours was nothing she thought she could bear.

The doctor remained completely calm and she had to admit she was grateful for that. “Let’s see how far along you are.”

With the Hunter’s help, he removed her pants and started to conduct his examination. As terrible as she felt, she was somewhat grateful that he remained so composed, contrary to everyone else in the room including herself. Yet as he was poking and prodding her stomach, his expression suddenly changed and his eyes grew large. 

“By the Gods…”

Whatever sense of tranquility the Doll felt at that point rapidly vanished and she stared at them, trying to speak between contractions. “W-what is it?”

The doctor gave her a serious look. “It’s breached…and more than one.”

Those words, spoken with a sharp edge of worry, nearly had her jerk upwards despite the pain she was in. Was this man really saying what she thought he did? Her husband seemed to have equal issues wrapping his head around it, staring at the doctor like he had just seen a ghost. 

“M-more than one? Like twins? And breached? What does that entail?”

Vlad gave him a serious look. “We can’t risk her giving birth naturally. I must perform a caesarian section.”

All remaining blood drained from the Doll’s face at hearing that. That wasn’t exactly welcome news. Feeling fear truly take her over, she tried to protest. 

Besides horrific flashbacks to her night at Cainhurst, she knew a caesarian section was a dangerous procedure. What if the anesthesia was too strong? What if she lost too much blood? For all she knew, she was put to sleep and might never wake up again. 

Mustering all her strength, she tried to bat the doctor’s hand away. “No! You will not let you! I…do not want to go yet… I do not…”

She didn’t get any further than that. As she was about to furiously kick Vlad when he didn’t relent, the Hunter stopped her. He gently pinned her down, demanding she looked at him. He wiped the sweat off her bro, pressing a kiss to her forehead and smiling. 

“Calm down, Evetta. We need to get them out, so they won’t die and neither will you. Don’t be scared, we can do this. I’m staying right here with you, alright? I’ll make sure you wake up. Just like the first time.”

“Just like the first time”…

For some reason, those words brought the Doll back to reality. She looked at him, looking her over with loving concern. It all felt comfortably familiar and she couldn’t help but feel memories resurface. 

She recalled the last time she saw the Hunter’s Dream. She remembered waking up in that scary, rundown clinic during a time when Yharnam was still so much darker. He had been there too then, holding her hand and calming her as she faced a world still so strange to her back then. When her mind was still more doll than living being. She almost smiled. That felt like a lifetime ago now…

That knowledge gave her strength. She could do it, as long as the Hunter was there. He always was, after all. He had been there when he had given her life. Now, he would do it again while she was giving life to his children. She was going to go through this and live to see all of them again.

She nodded at Vlad, resigning herself to the procedure. The doctor nodded and walked over with one of his tools. She could see it was a syringe and she listened carefully as he explained. 

“Evetta, I’m giving you an anesthetic. You will fall asleep and not feel a thing. In the meantime, I will get your children out safe and sound. I promise.” 

Wracked with another wave of pain, she could only nod. Taking this as a confirmation, the doctor stuck the needle into her arm. Soon, she felt a warm, pleasant drowsiness come over her that quickly muted the pain. She was thankful for that particular effect, but she nonetheless tried to focus her attention on the good Hunter as he held her hand. She could hear Vlad speak, though he started to sound warped and far away.

“Don’t worry, Evetta. I got this. When you wake up, you’ll be a mother.”

By now, her head felt so heavy she couldn’t even nod. She slowly started to close her eyes, still hanging on to her lover’s hand will all her might. In the distance, she could hear the doctor’s voice one final time, before finally fading into unconsciousness.

“Eileen, help me out with this. Djura get some towels. We’ll make it quick…”

As she slipped further into the realm of sleep, she recognized the place that started to materialize before her eyes. An odd sense of familiarity pulsed through her at feeling the soft wind and the lingering summer heat. The Doll sighed softly, taking it all in. She realized she hadn’t seen in the hill outside Yharnam in quite some time. 

She turned around and smiled upon seeing the woman was there too. As always, she looked at the sky hopefully, ever fixed on the Great One beyond that would tear through the fabric of this reality at any time now. She had seen it so many times before; it was merely a matter of going through the motions. 

This time, she decided not to walk around or explore. She simply sat down, as nothing but a quiet observer. For once, she wasn’t seeking anything. All she wanted right now was to simply behold.

As the atmosphere shifted and the world turned quiet, the Great One pulled itself from the moon. It noticed the woman and moved even more frantically, squirming through in an effort to reach her faster. It nearly tumbled out of its portal, almost endearing in its clumsy movements. 

Once it had released itself, it swam through the air towards the woman. In return, she dropped her arms and approached it with apparent caution. It circled her a few times, seemingly curious. As it did, it emitted soft noises, ones the Doll had never heard before but held the middle between confusion and inquisitiveness.

Suddenly, it extended one of its unusual limbs and the Doll froze. What was the creature intending? Was it going to grab the woman? Consume her? Impregnate her? For the first time, she was compelled to move, to step in and prevent whatever was going to happen.

The woman, however, didn’t seem to show fear at all. She stepped closer to the being, confidently this time, and smiled happily as she reached out with her own hand. Her index finger touched that of the eldritch being and for a moment, even the Doll felt something was happening. A connection, a melding of awareness between one plane and another.

Then, it spoke. In a tongue no mortal being could possibly comprehend, its voice thundered across the hill. Even though the Doll could not comprehend the exact words, she still detected a sense of gladness and anticipation in the unnatural language. She listened closely, only for her mouth to fall open when she finally realized its meaning.

It was not a curse or a command. Not a monstrous whispering of horrific truths and incomprehensible knowledge. It was a greeting, between those of similar mind and blood. The Great One was welcoming the woman. It greeted her, as a descendant and as its Kin… 

A chill went up her spine and she found herself nailed to the ground. She watched the scene in front of her with utter disbelief, still reeling from the revelation. After months of witnesses this strange event, on the verge of such a huge chance in her life, her eyes were finally opened. She understood now. She understood all of it.

“Evetta? Evetta? Wake up, love. Wake up.”

The good Hunter’s voice is what pulled her back to the world of the living. She opened her eyes, frustrated at how heavy her eyelids felt. Moving her head proved equally cumbersome, but she still forced herself to turn towards him. Even in her groggy state, she was relieved to see his face again. He had kept his promise to wake her up once more.

He smiled and she vaguely felt how he was still holding her head. “Welcome back. You made it.”

She could barely manage a weak smile, but whatever happiness she felt was brief. Her mind went back to the labor, towards what she now knew were two children rather than one. She turned to her husband with worry, irritated at how slurred her speech still was. 

“Good Hunter… Our…children…”

He squeezed her hand, seemingly happy. “We delivered them safely. Two healthy identical boys, full term.”

So they were healthy… A sigh of relief escaped her mouth before she was even aware of it. Her greatest fear had not come to pass. Her children were not stillborns or deformed babies living in agony. Still, another question entered her mind as well.

“H-how…do they…look?”

Then and there, she noticed Vlad from the corner of her eye. Apparently, he had caught onto her words. He sat on the edge of the bed, still cleaning some of his tools.

“Not quite human, but no abominations either. Actually, we had expected something far more severe. Seeing your husband’s particular traits, I have a feeling their appearance might grow more “ordinary” as time goes on. In any case, they are perfectly viable and well.”

Still in a state of utter fatigue, Evetta quietly took in the information. So the children took after their father’s true form. That might prove a problem in the long run and she wondered if her children would have a future in Yharnam’s society as they grew up. Still, considering all the other possibilities, she decided to count herself lucky. That was probably the best she could have hoped for. 

By now, the doctor was done cleaning his tools. He put everything in his bag, before checking her temperature. After making certain she was in good health once more, he looked towards something in the distance before turning back to her.

“Do you want to see them?”

She quietly motioned her heavy head to indicate her desire and the doctor called over. Eileen and Djura swiftly approached, both of them carrying a bundle of cloth. As they moved them into her arms, they looked her over, as if to make sure she was truly alright.

Eileen smiled warmly, seemingly not at all uneasy to handle the unusual baby. “Congratulations, dear. You did it.”

Djura mimicked the expression. “I never figured I’d ever see something like this in my lifetime. Truly, you and the Hunter keep surprising me every day.”

Managing another brief smile, a little easier this time, the Doll took a deep breath and finally looked upon her two sons. If she had ever anticipated feeling any sense of shock, that trepidation quickly disappeared. She chuckled, glancing back at her friends, remembering a suggestion her lover had made.

“This must be an odd moment to ask if you two would like to be their godparents.”

There was a brief silence and the older Hunters gave her a stunned look. She almost regretted asking an obvious demanding question like it. Still, as she was about to nullify her request, they both chuckled. Truly, being close to eldritch beings did not trouble them. 

“Trust me, it’s not the oddest thing asked of either of us. We’d be honored.”

Glad to hear such a positive answer, the Doll turned her attention back to the Hunter and their newborns. It was so odd that they were finally here. They looked back at her curiously; equally flustered by this strange new world they were thrust into.

Their appearance was indeed unusual for this plane. Their skin was somewhat grayish and extremities such as a nose or ears had not developed. Their bodies were rather thin and gaunt. Even so, their eyes, the same pale color as hers, were decidedly human and the sounds they made were those of normal children. They looked like something halfway between the Messengers from the Hunter’s Dream, quaint and yet familiar.

Not that it mattered to her right now. No matter what her children looked like, she was merely happy that they were healthy and that their arrival had not plunged Yharnam back into chaos. It was all she wished for and with that wish granted, she was content. Eldritch or no, these were her children, as well as the Hunter’s. They came from her body and she couldn’t think of doing anything else but love them. 

Leaning against her husband, she held her sons close. She cuddled them, pressing her lips to their foreheads. They quietly accepted the affection, nuzzling her on instinct and she giggled.

“Hello, little ones. I am Evetta. I am your mother.”


	6. Epilogue: Childhood's Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doll and Hunter contemplate on past, present and future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, Maf. Your intended Christmas present is done. It was a lot longer than planned and a lot more elaborate, but I hope you still like it. Happy New Year. XD

Summers have changed a lot around Yharnam. 

The Doll doesn’t mind much. She welcomes the agreeable weather and the ample sunshine. It allows her to be outside a lot, to partake in the social life of the city or to simply revel in the peaceful atmosphere around their house. Such as today, as she is tending to some of the medicinal plants in their garden at Byrgenwerth and the Hunter is harvesting some food for tonight on their vegetable patch.

Every passing season, she can’t help but notice this change. When the spring flowers have gone through their short lifespan and the air grows hotter, she realizes that it wasn’t always this way. That once upon a time, this land was as unchanging as the Hunter’s Dream.

She cherishes that she is able to know the difference. Eventually, a stagnant Yharnam will likely be nothing but a fading memory. The Great Ones have not left this place, but their influence has changed and the city once plagued by the Beastly Scourge has attained something of normality.

Of course, “normality” is a relative understanding. This town, the birthplace of Byrgenwerth and the Healing Church, will forever be touched by the forces summoned here. It will resonate in their knowledge, their exports, the bloody history documented in many memorials. Yet for her personally, it will always be evidenced by the life she leads now. 

The comfortable home she lives in, now surrounded by various plants and a large bed of sunflowers, was a college founded to discover the eldritch truth. The way she and her husband sustain themselves is by translating this truth to the people of Yharnam. The good Hunter would not be the man she knows now where it not for the blood of Great Ones and her very existence, both as a doll and a living being, is directly attributed to Them as well. They are practically scions of the Old Blood and this eldritch heritage will extend to their progeny as well.

No, the past will never be forgotten in this city. The scars run too deep and that which has become known cannot be forgotten. It _should_ not be forgotten, as far as she was concerned. One should remember the tragedy, as well as the atrocities, so it may never be repeated again.

Even so, she does not believe the actions of the fools at Byrgenwerth brought only misery. To condemn them entirely is to condemn the existence of her and her loved ones, which is something she cannot possibly do. Rather, she would like to believe that something good can spring forth from all the horrors. Something that might change this place from the better.

“Mommy! Mommy, look what we found!”

She looks up from tending to the herbs and sees their sons running up to her. They frantically push their way past the sunflowers, still careful not to snap them and destroy their favorite place to play. Howard, the older twin, gently pushes them aside allowing his younger sibling Phillip to step through the rows, before they hurriedly make their way over to her. Their normally pale faces are flushed with excitement and their faces are wrought with worry. 

Her children no longer look like the odd little creatures she gave birth to five years ago. As the first few months of their lives went by, they gradually started to lose their quaint, emaciated appearance. Their tiny bodies started to fill out, their extremities formed, gray skin turned pink as blood vessels developed and silver-colored hair started to grow onto their head. Whether they possess their father’s ability to alter their shape or they were meant to develop further outside of the womb, she will never be certain and frankly, she has decided not to question her fortune.

By now, aside from the occasional hint of eldritch abilities, their physical development is nothing out of the ordinary and the same goes for their mental state. They very much have the minds of children, taking delight in sweets, toys and playing with others of their age in Yharnam. To anyone who’s not knowledgeable, they would simply appear as two normal little boys with their mother’s light hair and eyes. 

Initially, she thought their hair and eye color odd. She has learned plenty about genetics. While her sons unmistakably have some of the Hunter’s human facial features, she had expected them to have his dark hair and eyes as well. Her husband theorizes it may be because of blond people in his own family or, more likely, a side effect of the Old Blood in their veins. It sounds logical to her, though they are aware they can never truly be sure. After all, like her, her sons are likely the only ones of their kind.

By now, her children have reached her. Howard stares at her from behind his glasses, eyes round with excitement as he points to his brother. In the arms of Phillip she notices a small bird. It’s rather ugly, with fluffed up feathers and a sharp beak and claws. An owl chick, she knows, and it looks wounded.

“We found it among the sunflowers. It’s a baby and the mommy wasn’t around.”

Phillip’s eyes, not obscured by glasses unlike his brother’s, express deep sadness. “It looks hurt. I think that it was attacked by crows…” 

Abandoning her work for the time being, the Doll stoops down to inspect the chick. She ignores the little creature’s frightened shrieks as she examines its wing. Her sons are likely right. The wound looks like it could be caused by a sharp crow’s beak, though their numbers seem to dwindle around Yharnam. Not surprising, now there is a lot less carrion littering the streets. As she tries to determine the cause, the boys try to talk to her.

“It’s a Eurasian Tawny Owl, I think. Because of the feathers and its size.”

“No, look at the shape of its face. It’s a Common Barn Owl! Like we saw in daddy’s book on birds in the library!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Is to!”

The Doll giggles. Despite being identical twins, her children are easily distinguished by their personalities. Howard has her even temperament, while Phillip seems to have inherited their father’s headstrong character. The older is a quiet observer while the younger is an eager participant. Both boys, however, have inherited their parents’ inquisitiveness and interest in science as well as their love for animals. Today, this is once again proven true as the heated exchange soon turns back to concern.

“Can we still fix its wing, mommy?”

“Yes, please say something, mommy. I don’t want it to die…”

She caresses the owl one last time before getting up. “Well, I don’t think it will. The wing isn’t torn. You should take it to your father. He likely knows how to fix it. And if not, you should all go to Doctor Hayashi in town.”

Howard smiles. “Ah yes, she’s a…orni…or…nit…olo…gist?”

Phillip interrupts with a grin. “A bird scientist! Yes, she will probably know what to do! Thanks, mommy!”

Their excited and relieved smiles make her feel warm all over. She watches how they run off towards their father, still carefully carrying the baby bird. From a distance, she sees how they present it to him and how he takes the chick from them. They start to walk down the path away from Byrgenwerth and she knows they will likely be gone for a while.

The Doll takes this moment of solitude to walk over to one of the garden chairs in front of the college and sits down on it. She reaches for a cool drink from the plate on the table and sits back, sipping from the cup as she surveys her surroundings. The plants and trees sway softly in the breeze and their many pets are contently splayed across the tiles, soaking up the sun’s rays. It relaxes her and she wants to make the most of it. She loves her children and husband more than anything else on this earth, but that doesn’t mean she enjoys the quiet moments any less. 

That, she thinks, is the one thing she cherishes about Byrgenwerth. Like the Hunter’s Workshop, the place can be wonderfully silent. Not the deathly silence that used to linger at Yharnam either. It is rather a kind of quiet where all sound is muted, like a strong heartbeat at the center of things. Peaceful and monotone, but alive, as if nature itself is in deep contemplation.

It’s another reason why she spends so much time outside when the weather is agreeable. The atmosphere at these times makes for splendid conditions to work on her illustrations or even just to read a book. The former is what she often considers more important and it is one of the reasons she took her sketchbook outside as well.

She puts aside the cup and reaches for the unfinished sketches she left on the tray. She grabs the pencil nearby and starts to work, continuing where she left off. Soon, a shape starts to appear. The image of houses covered in grime and barnacles, as seen in the abandoned fishing hamlet she and the Hunter recently visited. She lovingly renders the details she didn’t have the time to sketch earlier, soon lost in the comforting motions of her pencil on paper. 

As she sits there, however, she soon realizes all is not as it should be. She is pulled from her concentration by the sudden barking of her dogs. Their heads rise from the tiles and they stare at something in the distance with curiosity. The cats, some of which having joined her on the table as she works, also seem to be focused on something she can’t see, making confused chirping noises. A wry smile comes onto her face as she puts her pencil down.

She’s not alone.

The Doll moves the chair back and calmly gets up. She hushes her animals as she descends down the stone stairs. Her eyes fix on a figure far away, at the gates where the college is separated from the forest. The dogs follow her, following their instinct to secure the premises, but something tells her she will not need their protection. She already has an idea who it is.

She keeps walking, until she finally reaches the intruder. It has already sensed her coming and quickly hides in the shadows of the old trees. She is not thrown off by this and simply stares in her direction.

“The children are not here if that is what you’re looking for.”

The figure doesn’t respond. It freezes over, its eyes invisible in the darkness. She can tell it is looking her in the eye and she simply stares back, her voice even.

“You wished to see them with your own eyes? The progeny of the Vanquishing Hunter, which the madmen of Yharnam whisper about? Even if they were here, I would not let you lay your eyes upon them.”

All she receives is a glare, one she answers coolly. “There is nothing for you here. My sons are mine and we made sure to destroy their umbilical cords moments after they were born. There is nothing worthwhile for you to take from me. You will fail if you even try.”

The person shifts and she summons an arcane tool. “Trust me, it is not just the Hunter you have to fear. I have grown more powerful too. And you are a trespasser that has no place in my home.”

The intruder looks away. The Doll observes her from her spot in the sun. She crosses her arms and tilts her head curiously.

“Do you have any place at all, I wonder? After all, you have been gone for a while and something tells me you are no longer the same. You seem…older, if only by a day.”

For a moment, she wonders if the person is flinching. It’s hard to tell, hidden in shadows. Even so, what she said then is still as true as it is now and she is not willing to stand down.

“I do not know why you came here, but I hope you find what you seek, Annalise. If not on the now empty throne of Cainhurst, then somewhere else. But you will not have what is mine. I will fight for my children, to the death if I must. If what you told me years ago is true, then you will understand.”

A short silence follows and nothing is heard but the birds in the trees and the buzzing of insects on the wind. She doesn’t move an inch as she looks at the interloper. In her hand, the accursed brew utters its foul whispers. She does not fear the notion of a fight, but something tells her it will not be necessary.

Any fear of the Vileblood Queen has worn off a long time ago. She has outwitted her before and can do so again. Her knowledge of the arcane grows every year and she has attained the practical experience of survival that the aristocrat clearly lacks. Even if she may still immortal somehow, the Doll knows she can still reduce her to naught but a sentient stain in the grass. She is a powerful woman in her own right, confident in her abilities, and something tells her that Annalise senses it too. 

Still, there is also something else. She too remembers. What was said that night to convince her that the two children now in existence were already a reality. Neither of them may consider the Doll a member of the house of Cainhurst, but there is something else they now have in common besides the blood of the Pthumerians. It seems that it is that similarity, and the feelings that come with it, that makes all the difference. 

Even in the darkness, there is a nod. As much as a sign of respect that one can expect from a fallen monarch and the younger woman takes it for what it is. For once, there is no cruel ambition. For once, there is something akin to understanding. And then, just like that, she disappears again in the shadows, away to the unknown or perhaps finally back to the ruins of Cainhurst after so long.

The Doll is certain this is not the last she has seen of the Vileblood Queen. It would not suit the last of a long, proud line that affected so much of Yharnam. Whatever her plans may be, the younger female will watch and wait and be ready to make good on her threats should she need to. But not today, not for a long time…

The calm state of her animals assures her that she’s once again by herself. After making certain the premises are secure, she turns around and walks back to the terrace in front of her home. She returns to her sketches, finishing the fishing hamlet before simply letting her pencil roam across the paper.

When she finally realizes what she started to draw, she smiles. The old Workshop, the field of flowers, the fountain with the Messengers and her own porcelain body… Once upon a time, the Hunter’s Dream was all she knew. Sometimes, she finds it odd that it’s only a distant memory now. 

As she continues to work on the image, she notes with some amusement that she can’t recall all the details anymore. Once upon a time, she knew every nook and cranny of her old home. Now, it is a dreamlike image of the past that lingers in her head and fades a little more with each passing year. In fact, after all the experiences she has acquired as a living being, she finds it hard to truly remember being a doll.

Still, she thinks, perhaps it’s a good thing. As beautiful as it was, she doesn’t mourn leaving her stagnant life. She has grown, from a childlike mind to that of an adult, and can no longer conceive of a monotone existence as a fragile object. She dreams of different things these days.

Eventually, the sound of her children’s voices draws her back to reality. She looks across the garden with a broad smile and soon spots them. They come running back across the path from the forest, laughing and shouting while their father trails behind them. They let out happy shrieks when some of the dogs charge at them to greet them, not at all fazed when they fall into the dirt and get their faces licked. On moments like this, she once again realizes they are truly just children and she is glad for it. 

One day, they will learn that they are different. That they are not like human children and can see way beyond what they can. That perhaps, some people will fear them for it too. When that time comes, she and the Hunter will teach them not to despise them or look down on them for it. They will teach their sons kindness and compassion, more than they already possess now, so they will become good people and perhaps, in a future far away, the things she saw during her pregnancy may come to pass. 

Occasionally, she still dreams of the hill. She still feels the soft wind and the summer warmth in the night. Every time, she sees the Great One descending upon the rural landscape outside of Yharnam. And of course, she sees the woman, _her_ descendent, who greets the eldritch being as her equal.

Even now, the dream fills her with amazement. Although she is now thoroughly aware that her slumbers allow her to see the past, present and future alike, she can’t help but feel awe just thinking about it. Yet most of all, it gives her hope.

Humanity can not yet comprehend the Great Ones. They will likely not be able to for a long time. Their minds are too young, too corrupted by ambition and selfishness to understand their message. It is what happened in the past many times and these mistakes have made Yharnam what it is.

Yet maybe it doesn’t always have to be that way. In time, humanity will change. They will grow. Those who do not rush ahead but inch forward cautiously will see a bigger picture and rather than crave infinite knowledge, will use it wisely. Evolution with courage, tempered by responsibility and compassion. And this descendent, whether she will be a granddaughter or great-granddaughter or only alive long after she’s turned to dust, might be part of this new age.

Perhaps this is meant to be childhood’s beginning. A slow, awkward process towards enlightenment. An introduction of a new bloodline and new ideas. She cannot tell and, as always, doesn’t believe in destiny, but if she will be part of this change, then she couldn’t be more proud.

As their sons dart through the garden, returning to their games, the Hunter approaches her. He seems to be in a good mood and joins her at the table, reaching for a drink himself. She gives him a smile, deciding not to mention the impromptu visit she had earlier. 

“Welcome home, good Hunter. Did you manage to have the owl chick taken care of?”

He nods, chuckling. “Yes, Maiko said that the wing can be easily healed. She will raise it until it’s old enough to be released back into nature. Sorry we took a bit longer. Naturally, Howard and Phillip wanted to know all there is to know about it and loved watching her feed it dead mice. Boys will be boys, I guess. Still, I figured it would be good for them.” 

She giggles. That definitely sounds like her children. Like their parents, they love learning things, if not in school then by learning from the books in their large library and taking in the world around them. Also, leave it to her husband to turn a short outing into a learning opportunity. 

She puts aside her sketches for the time being, planning to spend some time with her lover instead. The Hunter reaches over to look at her illustrations. She sees him stare at the one of the Hunter’s Dream with interest and he grins. 

“Homesick, Evetta?”

The Doll laughs. “Hardly. But one must not forget where they come from, do they?”

He smiles and returns the sketches. “I suppose you are right. After all, some good came from it, didn’t it?”

Even now, she still feels touched whenever he says something like that. She can hear the affection in his voice as he does and even now, after being together for so long, she finds herself blushing. While she never doubts that he is happy with her, their sons and their life, she still likes it when he voices it every once in a while.

They have changed a lot over the last years, same as the world around them. Still, it is good to know that it has all been for the better, even if at times they felt lost and confused along the way. The both of them may have entered the Hunter’s Dream with other intentions, but neither of them wants to change how they are now for the world.

“So… I think we have done enough work on the garden today and we only need to go to the university tomorrow. Is there anything you want to do?”

Another smile finds its way onto her face. On days like these, when she is happy to be alive and close to her loved ones, there is no need to do anything particularly special. She already knows what she wants to ask and it’s but a simple request.

“Just stay with me, Good Hunter. Sit with me, watch our sons play. Just enjoy things as they are now.”

The Hunter looks at her in silence. His eyes shine. Even now, that is what he seems to enjoy the most. When they can retreat to their safe haven and simply enjoy each other’s company, as they have done from the moment they met in the Hunter’s Dream. The two of them, together against the world. That aspect of their relationship will never change. 

He smiles, grabbing her hand and placing a soft kiss on it. “That I can do.”


End file.
